


Grande Arkway Asylum

by Alteredgalaxy



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Shane becomes a ghost and hes not happy about it, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-06-23 03:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 67,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15596790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alteredgalaxy/pseuds/Alteredgalaxy
Summary: Shane dies during an investigation; Ryan gets proof ghosts are real, just not in the way he ever expected.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I made this place up. It's not real.

 

* * *

 

 

From the second they entered the front gates of Grande Arkway Asylum, Ryan had a bad feeling about it.

 

“Relax,” Shane interrupted his intrusive thoughts with a dismissive eye roll, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

Maybe so. Ryan had researched his place for months, dug way deeper into its grisly past than any previous location before; and the reason? The place was massive. A decrepit, abandoned asylum stretched over hundreds of acres of empty land, thousands of feet big in the middle of nowhere, underground tunnels connecting it all.

 

Miles of five foot tall, solid black fencing topped with two rows of razor wire surrounded the miles of property -- _plus _,__ Ryan had learned not only that, but the fence was also electric when the facility was still in use, which made him wonder if this place was actually a high security prison trying to rival Alcatraz.

 

They pulled into the courtyard which was impressive in of itself; a seven meter wide, gothic looking stone fountain sat perched in the middle, arching several more meters tall with three separate discs spreading out in width near the bottom, but its base was hidden from view with the overgrown hedges.

 

It was off now, with very visible spiderwebs and birds nests tucked into every conceivable crevice, but Ryan’s attention was soon turned elsewhere. His eyes were drawn to the main structure; maybe a hundred feet tall, red bricked arching towers that seemed to pierce the clouds. It was fifty meters wide with double glass pane windows every six or so.

 

“It’s almost as tall as you.” Ryan pointed out, earning a sigh.

  

“Har har.”

  

Ryan had already done the narration, but he couldn’t help but run through it in his head. Built in the late 17th century, this place -- like most Asylums at the time -- were meant for dumping the sick into, the ones with no chance of normalcy, even people who were in their right mind and able to refuse, but were overruled.

  

Unlike other places, Grande Arkway Asylum had no interest in helping its patients. Instead, it stood as a front for illegal experimentation on people the world had already forgotten about; the employees treated the patients like prisoners, tortured them, refused basic necessities, falsified progress reports and stole money received for funding.

  

Thirty seven people died within the first six months, forty nine more in the first year. Most died from their wounds during experimentation, a handful others died from whatever diseases they had been sent to the Asylum to cure, the rest were suicide. Despite all that, the mentally ill kept getting sent to the Asylum, where they kept getting murdered.

  

Before closing its doors for good in 1907, an estimated 2340 people died behind these walls, and most were said to be buried in unmarked graves somewhere in the woods. Others were cremated or simply dumped into a big hole with countless others. On only a few rare occasions, a body was returned to the family.

  

While researching, Ryan knew immediately they had to do an episode here. With countless deaths, there had to be __some__ tortured, suffering souls wandering about -- and with all the evil that lurked behind these walls, he figured maybe even a Demon or two could be waiting. Shane was quick to compare it to Pennhurst or Rolling Hills.

  

The gravel path they drove on looped around the fountain and connected back onto the path leading from the gates, so Shane pulled around right up to the main entrance and turned off the engine. The deafening silence was eerie as Ryan anxiously watched the skeletal trees wave their branches softly in the breeze.

  

“What’s the matter?” Shane asked, noticing how Ryan was twiddling his thumbs, “Already scared of the _gh_ - _gh_ - _ghosts_?”

  

“Shut up, Shane.” He mumbled, then opened the car door.

  

Outside, he noticed, was even worse then he thought. It was only 2pm, but the grey clouds, crows cawing, and shutters slapping against the house with the wind did everything to make the atmosphere even creepier. Ryan wasn’t sure he could handle a haunted Asylum _and_ a thunderstorm rumbling through the halls.

  

He scanned their surroundings while Shane went around to the trunk to retrieve a duflebag, whistling as he did. Ryan peered into the entrance way; a cracked, stone stairway overflowing with moss leading up to a pair of double doors, one of which was already hanging by one of three hinges and missing its doorknob.

  

“Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Shane sighed, and he turned to watch the other close the trunk. “These ghosts aren’t gonna hunt themselves.”

  

Ryan rolled his eyes, “At least take this one seriously, you idiot. It’s probably gonna be the best episode this season.”

  

“Oh, I’m serious alright.” He replied, then fixed Ryan with a s _ _erious__ expression, “ _Deadly_ serious _ _.”__

__ __

When Ryan gave _him_ an annoyed expression, Shane simply laughed and moved around the car towards the entrance. It took a moment of hesitation -- where Ryan felt like he was being watched -- but quickly decided to follow. This was the very last place he wanted to be left alone and was definitely not looking forward to the solo spirit box sessions.

  

The corridor leading to the double doors was almost boxed in with walls on both sides and a roof that Shane’s head nearly touched the top of, but he didn’t seem to notice because he was so preoccupied swatting spiderwebs away. He mumbled something about starting another collection, but came to a stop at the doors.

  

Shane turned to smirk at him, “After you.”

  

“No fuckin’ way, dude. _You_ go first.” He shot back.

  

Obliviously expecting that reply, Shane turned back around without complaint and stepped over the half-destroyed door. He had to duck down under the door frame, again, mumbling to himself about how the world was built for hobbits but Ryan elected to ignore him and cautiously stepped in after him.

  

The foyer was the size of your average classroom, but very spacious with what seemed to be a receptionist desk pushed against the far wall with the counter stretching the length of that wall. It’s surface was littered with trinkets, stacks of books and various papers, but must have been buried beneath an inch of dust.

 

There were three filing cabinets with open drawers behind the counter, with numerous boxes stacked on top, but Ryan’s attention was drawn to the signs hanging up. He noticed at least three “Welcome!” signs, a large portrait with the Polices and Rules printed out, and a very large map next to another set of double-doors, detailing the Asylum layout.

 

Immediately to their right was a cluster of wooden chairs, most of which were knocked down or missing some legs. Some had very flat, probably uncomfortable cushions still attached, but he figured it was a normal condition for 200-year-ish chairs to be in. Above the pile was a hanging sign that read ‘waiting room’ and ‘visitation area’

 

He imagined most of these people didn’t get many visitors.

 

“This seems cozy.” Shane said, “Reminds me of my Doctors waiting room.”

 

Ryan gave him a look, “Your doctors office is moldy, smelly, covered in dust and riddled with spiderwebs?”

 

He shrugged, “He’s a messy man, what can I say?”

 

Ryan snorted.

 

Enough natural light streaming into the lobby from the doors and shattered windows, that Shane clicked off his flashlight and headed over to the giant wall map. Ryan stayed close, but he went over to examine the double doors that must have lead into the rest of the Asylum. It was almost impossible to see through the glass panes on each door.

 

Ryan used his sleeve to wipe off the dust, but it was nearly pitch black on the other side. He stared through, squinting hard and was just about to pull away when something small hit the glass from the other side, and Ryan screeched. He jerked away from the door and intermediately crashed into Shane who caught him by the shoulders.

 

“Jesus, Ryan! We just got here.”

 

Ryan’s heart was hammering, “There was-- I saw something, I swear!”

 

Shane sighed and stepped away from him, then headed over to the double doors. He pocketed his flashlight, then without hesitation, he pushed them both open (although it took a little effort) and stood there, waiting for something. Ryan took a step back, but kept his eyes trained on the darkness when suddenly-

 

A small bird came shooting out of the hallway, nearly smashing into the door frame as it flew faster than Ryan had ever seen a regular bird fly, and the sudden movement made Shane duck reflexively while Ryan let out another terrified yelp. He nearly crashed into the chairs trying to get out of its way, but the other started laughing.

 

“Oh wow, that was spooky!” Shane said and let the doors close, “You think it saw a ghost?”

 

Ryan knew he was being sarcastic, but that was a good theory. How long had the bird been trapped in there with restless spirits? How many had it seen? Is that why it seemed to flap its wings with such intensity? Can birds and animals even see ghosts? He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Just a bird.

 

“You sure you still wanna explore before the others get here?” Shane asked after a moment. “Can your poor, fragile heart take it?”

 

Ryan still fiddled with his fingers, but nodded. “It’s just one building. We can save the rest for when the cameras are rolling.”

 

“Well if a bird nearly knocked you on your ass, I’m not sure you’d survive a ghost sighting.”

 

“It was just a bird.” he reminded himself aloud.

 

Shane gasped softly, “A ghost bird?”

 

“Shut up, Shane.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took the pair two hours to navigate the main floor and search it all; caved in floors or collapsed parts of the ceiling made the trek somewhat challenging, but Ryan -- despite his fear -- wanted to check out every single unlocked room. It was way bigger than he anticipated, which only made him wonder how long it’d take to explore the rest.

  

Despite its age, the interior was nice. Smooth, stone floors with square designs, red brick walls similar to the exterior, metal plated ceiling lights every four meters or so and even small potted trees outside every door they passed. It did resemble a doctors office, but Ryan guessed it was only to hide the horrifying Asylum conditions.

  

The top floor seemed to house all the offices and what appeared to be an archive room filled to the brim with bookshelves, filing cabinets and countless stacks of boxes. If there was any useful information, he figured the government would have taken it after closure, or the staff simply got rid of it to cover their tracks.

 

While searching the bookshelves, someone grabbed his shoulders.

  

Ryan shrieked and dropped the nameless book he had just flipped open, then lurched forwards and flung an arm out behind him like his fist would somehow affect a ghost. He quickly pressed his back to the bookshelf, quite ready to accept death, but only saw Shane standing there, hands on his own chest as he leaned back with laughter.

 

“Shane, you- I- you can’t-” He sputtered, heart threatening to explode right out of his ribcage, “Dickhead!”

  

Still laughing, Shane waved a hand and wheezed something incoherent, unaffected by Ryan’s intense glare.

  

“God, I hate you.” Ryan huffed, and put his face in his hands.

  

Shane rubbed his eyes, still coming down from the laughing fit. “That was so dumb, and probably the scariest thing that’s gonna happen to you all night.”

  

When he was finally done laughing, he met Ryan’s stare with a satisfied smile.

  

Ryan pursed his lips, deep in thought for a moment before he responded; “This place seriously doesn't feel weird to you?”

 

“Oh, it’s certainly unsettling.” He agreed, “But I’m more afraid of choking to death on dust than ghosts.”

 

“The ghosts are gonna get you for saying that.”

 

“What’re they gonna do? Kill me?”

 

Ryan laughed, easing the heavy fear away for just a moment, “Your soul wandering an insane asylum for all eternity? That’s fitting.”

 

He pushed himself away from the bookshelves as Shane flashed him a look,

 

“If one kills me, and I die in this place, I’m gonna be pissed, Ryan.” The two started walking back over to the door, before he added; “You’d better come end my miserable existence.”

 

He raised his eyebrows, “You wouldn’t have fun as a ghost?”

 

“Floating around aimlessly forever, unable to access the wifi? Just __end__ me.” Shane had to duck through the doorway, but the conversation continued as they re-entered the hallway. “Actually, I’d find a way to come haunt you.”

 

“And I’d rub it in your face that ghosts __are__ real, and that I was right all along.”

 

Shane sighed, “Would it be worth it?”

 

The question caught Ryan off-guard -- he assumed it was meant as a joke, that it didn’t carry as much weight as he worried it did, but whatever the reason, he faltered. A part of him wanted to say _hell yeah_  to carry on the joke, but if proving ghosts were real meant losing Shane? He shouldn’t be thinking about it this much, but had to be honest;

 

“No.” Was the reply, “I like you alive, thank you very much.”

 

The look Shane gave him was strange, like the response caught _him_ off guard. Maybe he was looking for a joke answer too.

 

“Well, uh.. thanks. If it’s any consolation, Ryan, I don’t plan on dying tonight.”

 

A smile slowly formed on Ryan’s face at the sincerity in his friends voice, “I’m glad. Maybe don’t plan on dying for the next couple years or so.”

  

The expression on Shane’s face became amused, “Only a couple? And here I thought we were having a real heart-to-heart.”

  

“Shut up. You know what I meant, idiot.”

  

“Do I? I feel like you’ll have to repeat all that with a recorder on, especially the part where you said you liked me.”

  

Ryan sighed heavily, “Did I say that? I meant I hate you, you big-headed, long legged, dumbass idiot.”

  

“Dumbass idiot, huh? Shane mused, aiming the flashlight down the hall and across a couple paintings, “You really went and got a PhD in Insult School, didn’t you?” 

 

He wanted to retaliate, but held his tongue.

 

“Don’t worry, buddy.” Shane wrapped an arm around his shoulders, bending sideways somewhat to make up for the height difference, “I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

 

Ryan did his best to wriggle free from his friends grasp, “I’m gonna murder you.”

 

“Like to see you try, big guy.”

 

He hid the next smile that formed on his face but effectively stepped away from Shane and went back to his own devices. With the silence, the worry came back. Logically, there was nothing to be afraid of. It was still daytime, and he had a best friend who was at his side who was willing to fist-fight a demon as they ventured deeper into the building.

 

Of course, that’s when things started to go wrong.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry in advance

The main building was bigger than Ryan expected.

 

After being in such cramped quarters, it came as a shock when Shane pushed open a set of glass double doors and they entered a corridor far larger than the one they exited. Several meters wide and maybe twenty meters high, solid wooden beams criss-crossing each other for rafters, but another floor was definitely above this one.

 

The corridor was completely devoid of objects except for stray pieces of paper or dislodged pieces of concrete or chunks of wood. In here, the interior was in a state of disrepair; moss sprouted up from the cracks in the marble floor, the walls seemed to start off as red brick, but turned to wooden planks as they entered further, as if builders had run out.

 

Everything in this massive space appeared to reflect that -- the corridor stretched into endless darkness, but he noticed none of the spaced out rooms on either side had doors. Upon inspection, they only had a simple desk, chair and filing cabinet unlike the surplus of supplies the earlier offices had. Did this place run out of funding so early on?

  

“Oh, Demons!” Shane suddenly called out, shattering the silence Ryan had grown used to. “The Ghoul Boys are here; come take a gander.” 

 

“Jesus Christ, dude.” Ryan mumbled.

 

“What? I’m just being friendly.”

 

Ryan gave him an unamused expression, “You don’t have a good track record when it comes to being friendly to ghosts.”

 

Shane grinned, “New season, new me.” Then he turned back to face the dark hallway, “Ghooooosts? Why don’t you come out and play with my buddy Ryan? He’s a big fan.”

 

“I’m not!”

 

“He’s a __real__ big fan,” Shane ignored him, “So why don’t y’all come out and, uh… give him a lil’ lick?”

 

Ryan scoffed, “A lick?! No, no, don’t do that, don’t lick me.”

 

“Lick him!”

 

“If a ghost licks me, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

 

Shane laughed, “Fine, a smooch, then.” He acknowledged the empty hallway, and talked to air, “Come give Bergara a smooch right on the lips.”

 

Ryan covered his face with his hands and muttered something incoherent.

 

“You don’t want a ghost kiss?” Shane teased, “I thought that was what you were all about.”

 

“I want to _see_ a ghost, Shane. I don’t want to be.. _intimate_  with one.”

 

Ryan was sure if he had said that while on camera, the fans would have begged to differ.

  

“Not even if they buy you dinner first?”

  

“You’re insufferable.”

  

Shane grinned and watched as he walked farther into the room, “That’s not a ‘no’, Ryan.”

  

Instead of amusing the other with a response, Ryan continued down the hallway despite the lack of light, and it didn’t take long for the other to follow suit.

 

* * *

 

The pair ended up on the top floor despite straying from the main building, but Ryan got a text saying the rest of the crew were gonna be late, so he wanted a way to pass the time. The hallway was just as wide, but the ceiling arched after five or six meters in height and it was glaringly obvious that construction never finished up here.

  

The floor was lower quality than anything he had seen before, and already had a couple floorboards missing in certain areas. It creaked and groaned much louder than the main building, and he wasn’t sure how much weight it really could hold. If if could take the strain of all those boxes, it could hold two idiots, right?

  

Still, he didn’t like it.

  

“I don’t think we should be up here.” Ryan mumbled, anxiety making him walk more cautiously.

  

“Oh, relax.” Shane assured him, “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  

As Shane walked through the hallway, the floorboards seemed to whine vocally under his weight -- and he wasn’t even that heavy. It sent another spike of anxiety through Ryan, watching his best friend look around the hallway rather than the danger at his feet. He could have been hallucinating, but he swore he saw it bending.

  

“Maybe you should- maybe, this is a bad idea..” Ryan called out, heart now hammering in his chest. He was sure he heard one of the wooden panels snap, “Come back, we’ve got other stuff to explore.”

  

Shane faltered when another floorboard seemed to snap, so he glanced down at his feet, “I think they need to do some renovating in here.”

  

“Seriously, Shane.” He persisted, “This feels bad.”

  

This time, his friend turned around to face him with an eye roll. “You say that in every room we enter, Bergara.” A mischievous smile appeared on his face, “Here, watch this.”

  

When Shane jumped on the spot, and the floor creaked again, Ryan tensed so hard he thought he pulled a muscle. He noticed more cracks in the ground by his friends feet which almost definitely weren’t there before -- but it was fine, right? There had to be more than one layer to the floor so high above the first floor, _right?_

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Shane.” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but now he was beyond scared, “Let’s go, please.”

 

Shane jumped again, smile still plastered on his face. Ryan thought he was going to have a stroke. 

 

“See?” A laugh escaped Shane as he held out his arms to each side as if asking for a hug, “I told you, there's absolutely nothing to worry a-”

 

And before he got the last word out, the old, rotting floorboards beneath him seemed spiderweb with cracks, then gave way as they exploded into splinters; before Ryan could even blink, half the floor, wall and somehow bits of the ceiling, collapsed and sent Shane plummeting into the darkness below.

  

Ryan scrambled backwards, falling on his ass to get away from the ledge where more of the floor seemed to be caving in. He crawled back, terrified eyes still staring at the spot where his friend had been mere moments ago. His heart was racing, and a sudden burst of adrenaline forced him to his feet just as quickly as he fell.

  

“Shane!” he sputtered, forcing his brain to cooperate with the other half that wanted to run and get help. He edged towards the hole, “Shane, can you hear me?”

  

Nothing.

  

_He didn’t even scream,_  Ryan thought, fear gripping his heart like a tight fist. He couldn’t even get close enough to the hole to peer though without the structure creaking and groaning again -- maybe there __were__ a few more layers of flooring, maybe Shane only fell a couple feet. Ryan knew if that were true, _Shane would have made a noise by now._

  

Instead of waiting to see if Shane would pop right back up through the floorboards, Ryan slowly backed up, slowly, slowly, then turned around and bolted down the decrepit hallway. He had to get downstairs. His mind was racing trying to figure out where the staircase was but every damn door looked the same.

 

_Nothing to worry about. There's nothing to worry about._

__

Ryan practically ripped the metal bars off the heavy door as he swung it open, halfway down the stairs before it even clanged shut. He skipped every two, not caring that the old, creaky wooden planks threatened to give way with every step. With the second floor so high above the first, he could only imagine the condition Shane was in, falling from so high.

 

_There's nothing to worry about, Bergara. He's fine. Hes gonna be fine._

__ __

The first bit of doubt flooded his mind, but he pushed it down.

  

_The idiot probably just knocked himself unconscious._

  

After what seemed like hours, Ryan reached the bottom. The pair had joked on the way up about Shanes long legs carrying him up five stairs at a time while, laughing after he was out of breath by the tenth. The memory was less than an hour ago but it was overpowered by his crippling fear.

  

_Shane is fine. He's fine, he's fine, hes fine, nothing to worry about, remember?_

 

Ryan raced down the hallway as fast as his sore feet would carry him, not giving a damn about any potential ghosts or imaginary sounds he might have heard besides his own heavy breathing and footsteps, but eventually came to a slow when he saw the dust cloud. It was still thick with decades worth of dust but he tried to push through.

 

It didn’t take long to find a figure.

 

His breath caught as he spotted the motionless shadow though the now clearing dust, then froze. His feet disobeyed him, not wanting to walk forward to find the truth. It was Shane, it had to be. He was lying on his side, back facing Ryan, but from here, he couldn’t tell if his friend was breathing or not. He had to be.

 

“..Shane?” He called out, quieter this time.

 

No response.

 

_It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine._

__

Ryan edged closer, heart creeping into his throat, but tears filled his eyes when he was close enough to notice the blood. Oh god, the blood. There was already a puddle the width of a basketball with Shane’s head in the middle, but unconscious people bled, right? Right? That didn’t mean they were dead, _right?_

__

Shane was sprawled out like he was taking a nap on the floor, legs overlapped slightly, both arms pulled close to his chest, but Ryan still couldn't see his chest heaving up and down like it was supposed to. As he stood there, the pool of blood only spread out more, which made Ryan spring into action and kneel at his friends side.

 

“Please be okay, please be okay..” Ryan whispered, “please, please, please..”

  

He rolled Shane onto his back, and a sob caught in his throat. His face was already so pale against the dark blood still pooling out from the side of his head that must have connected with the concrete floor. He had a few new cuts and bruises on his forehead and hands, but that was nothing compared to what he saw next.

  

Ryan’s eyes were drawn to Shane’s neck, where he noticed the skin bulging, bones threatening to rip though like -- Ryan snapped his eyes shut, a shaky exhale escaping his throat as he bought one hand up to cover his mouth. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to throw up, or scream, or both. This couldn’t be happening.

  

“No, no, no, no, no..” He whispered, trembling hand reaching out to Shane’s deformed neck as if he’d find a pulse. He didn’t. “Oh, fu-- oh, god, no, oh my god..”

  

Ryan cupped Shane’s cheek, already cold under his touch and it made his entire world flip as the realization set in,

  

“Wake up, Shane, c’mon.” He insisted, placing another hand on his friends shoulder, “Wake up, please, dude, c’mon.”

  

Shane didn’t, and Ryan felt the first few tears fall.

  

“Okay, fine, you got me, good one, Shane.” He tried again, voice shaking more than before, “This isn’t funny anymore. Wake up, please, __please.__ ”

  

Ryan heard voices now, and he wanted to yell at the crew to call an ambulance, but already knew it was too late. Shane was--

  

“Please, please, c’mon man, you gotta wake up, I need you.”

  

He wanted Shane to open his eyes and start laughing, telling him it was just some sick, stupid joke. Ryan would forgive him if he just fucking woke up right now, but Shane’s eyes stayed closed, and his face got colder. Another sob escaped him as he moved to cradle Shane’s head in his lap, not caring about the blood staining his hands.

  

“You’re not dead.” He insisted, “You’re just playing a bad prank on your good buddy Ryan. You’re not dead.”

  

Dread filled his stomach as the realization continued to settle. He wanted to throw up remembering how the pair had joked about potentially dying in this place a few hours earlier, and that’s all he wanted it to be. A joke. But shane wasn’t moving anymore, nor was he breathing, and he knew it was real.

  

_If its any consolation, Ryan, I don’t plan on dying tonight._

__ __

Keep your promise then, Shane. Keep your goddamn promise.

  

When the voices got louder and someone called his name, Ryan didn’t respond; he kept whispering to his friend, and let the tears fall freely now. He vaguely noticed a bright flashlight shine on the two of them, then heard someone gasp and another say __‘call 911__ but he couldn’t bring himself to look away even when a hand touched his shoulder.

  

His best friend was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press F to pay your respects


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its a long one, bois

 

* * *

 

 

There were three things Shane would eventually remember.

 

One, he’d remember falling. It had been so sudden he barely registered it; through the rotted wooden floor and into the darkness below, unable to grab hold of anything.

 

Two, he’d remember that in the darkness, he smashed his head off a sturdy wooden pillar on the way down. There had been a sickening crack, and suddenly nothing mattered anymore.

 

Three, he had been dead before he hit the floor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Shane coughed his way into consciousness, quickly breathing in heavy puffs of dust particles that stuck to the inside of his dry throat with every inhale. He sat upright before even opening his eyes, and had no time to wonder why when he became vividly aware of the hard flooring below him and the chunks of wood surrounding his person.

  

He put a hand on his chest as the coughing continued, but eventually caught his breath as the rest of his senses returned. Shane blinked several times before realizing whatever room he was in -- one, it was pitch black, and two, it definitely wasn't his bedroom. He frowned, completely disoriented and placed a hand on the floor to steady himself.

  

Shane looked around for any source of light, but everything was sealed tight except for what looked like a hole a dozen meters above; the faintest light streamed through it, as if beckoning to come closer. He narrowed his eyes with confusion as he tried to remember why he was lying down.

  

Then, it hit him. He and Ryan had been investigating the top floor of this weird Insane Asylum, and Shane wandered a little too far in. The floorboards -- in retaliation to his taunts, he supposed, gave way like he had been standing on thin ice. Maybe jumping had been a dumb idea like Ryan suggested, but hey, he was alive. 

 

In fact, he didn’t remember the details of the fall, but he suddenly realized he wasn’t in pain after sitting up. A fall from that sort of drop should have stung a little, gave a bruise or something. Not that he was complaining, of course. He was lucky he didn’t break anything, or even wind up dead -- Ryan was gonna swear up a storm.

 

Shane dragged out a long sigh, then got to his feet after a moment of contemplation. He brushed the dust off his clothes and glanced around, wondering which way the two had come from. It felt somewhat familiar as he trudged down the hallway, searching for that big archway that housed the stairwell.

 

He didn’t stop to wonder how odd it was that Ryan wasn’t down here yet. He assumed the other would have raced down here by now to lecture Shane about how stupid all that was -- and boy, did he know how long that rant was going to be. When he didn’t encounter his friend in the stairwell, he didn’t think much of it.

 

Upon reaching the top floor, he scanned the hallway and noticed the light streaming in through a hole in the roof. He frowned. Daylight? It had been nearing seven o’clock by the time they made it this far, and the sun was already setting. Now that he noticed, everything up here was bathed in a warm light which definitely didn’t make sense.

 

Shane headed down the corridor, more careful this time, hyper-aware of how much the floor creaked and groaned under his weight. He was focused on the gaping hole in the floor up ahead, caved in from wall to wall like a fissure which seemed to actually drag part of them down into it. He edged as close as possible, but peered down into it.

 

_Jesus. He thought A couple little jumps did this?_

__

Shane couldn’t see much except the moldy, splintered support boards and figured it was a miracle the two managed to walk on this floor at all. He tip-toed closer and upon closer inspection, could see the thick, wooden, criss-crossing rafters clearly meant to act as another layer of support for this floor. Load of good that did.

 

He was about to step back when he noticed something else -- the way the light shined down the hole, Shane was sure he saw blood spatter on one of the pillars which made him instinctively reach up to touch his own head. Nothing. No blood, no wound, not even a scratch. If he hit his head hard enough to draw blood, he’d still feel it.

 

Shane simply shrugged to himself and turned around.

 

“Ryan!” He called out instead, then louder this time: “ _ _Ryan!__ ”

 

When no response came, Shane headed back towards the stairs. He doubted the guy would hang around on this floor after what just happened, so they would just have to reunite on the main floor where it was safer. Between the property damage and the potential ghosts, he figured Ryan was going to tear him a new one.

 

Up ahead, he noticed movement. It was a quick, blink and you’ll miss it kind of motion, but he faltered a step. When it didn’t make a comeback, Shane hurried towards the end of the hall and into the stairwell where it suddenly felt colder then the rest of the building. That was odd -- it hadn’t been this cold coming up.

 

The thought was quickly pushed aside when he leaned over the railings to notice that same quick spur of movement, but heard no sound to accompany it. Shane wasted no time descending the steps but occasionally peered over the railing to see if he could catch another glimpse of whatever that was.

 

“Ryan?” He tried again, narrowing his eyes as he approached the archway back into the main corridor, “That you?”

 

No reply.

 

“Bergara!” Shane cupped the sides of his mouth, “I’m alive, thanks for wondering! You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

 

Still, nothing, and it lead him to believe maybe Ryan left the building entirely. But why? Had he left his phone in the car, was he trying to call the others? Maybe the cell service in here was garbage, and he couldn’t imagine why it wouldn’t be. That being said, Shane patted his own pockets but his phone was gone.

 

__Probably left it in the car_ _

__

Admittedly, Shane wasn’t exactly sure how to get out. He had followed Ryan the way in and wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings since it had been so dark -- everything looked the same when he could barely see, so he began his long trek back to where he assumed the main lobby would be, occasionally calling for Ryan.

 

The thought of Ryan being just as lost as he was in this place brought a smile to his face. Maybe he took a wrong turn, entered another part of the Asylum, ran into a room full of ghosts. If that were true, shane was sure he’d be able to he hear his friend screaming about spirits and easily track him down.

  

At some point while lost in his thoughts, he rounded a corner and immediately recognized the hallway he had entered. It was where they started; that hallway a bird shot out of and made Ryan scream loud enough to give any demon a run for its money. The memory made Shane grin to himself -- what an idiot.

 

Shane made it to the end of the corridor and pushed open those heavy metal doors, and squinted. Sunlight filled the room, brighter than what he had seen upstairs. Rays of light touched the floor and made the heavy layers of dust glaringly obvious, floating through the air as thick as smoke. That really didn’t make sense.

  

The front door was wide open even though both had climbed over the right door hanging by its bottom hinge. To make matters even stranger, that same door was now flat on the ground, and yellow caution tape was strung across the entire door frame and even some of the windows. He stepped into the room to look around. 

 

“..Ryan?”

 

At this point, he wasn’t expecting a reply, but when he walked over to a shattered window, he blinked in surprise. The car was gone. Straight up gone, and he wasn’t sure was to make of it -- had Ryan seriously left him here? And why the caution tape? Had he watched Shane fall though the floor and just decided to bounce?

 

He wanted to be annoyed, but more confusion took its place. No, that didn’t sound like Ryan at all. Ryan would have been there waiting for him to wake up, ask a million questions about how he felt, blamed the ghosts for making the floor break. He wouldn’t have just ditched Shane and he knew that for a fact.

 

Shane made a bee-line for the door, assuming Ryan probably just moved the car to a different spot for some unknown reason.

 

As soon as he reached out to pull the caution tape aside, he felt like he slammed directly into a brick wall.

 

Shane felt like he was pushed backwards after impact, which knocked the air out of his lungs. It stunned him quite literally; he stood frozen in place, whole body tense while his vision swam back into focus. It was like standing up too fast after laying down for a long time, and his head was pounding.

 

He stared at the open space in front of him, narrowed eyes trying to process what the hell just happened. Shane was positive he walked through the empty space - a space he could clearly see the outside world through, but maybe..? Maybe he wasn’t paying attention. Maybe he really did run into the wall.

 

So he tried again after a quick head shake, eyes trained on the fountain in the courtyard but as soon as he reached the door frame, crashed right into an invisible wall. Shane swore loudly and caught himself as he was pushed backwards with that same dazed feeling. He definitely didn’t run into a physical wall this time.

 

He also noticed three bikes leaning against the brick wall outside along with a deep red backpack, and he pursed his lips. Those definitely weren’t there before -- he had hadn’t noticed plenty of things so far, and everything seemed out of place, but it’s not like he could have just blocked out bikes blocking their only entrance.

 

Just when he was about to call Ryan’s name again, he heard a voice. He stopped to listen for which direction it came from, but heard another voice replying to the first. He couldn’t be sure if it was Ryan or another crew member, so he hurried in the direction that started feeling more familiar to him.

 

“--just saying, Dex.” A voice, much clearer now, came into earshot, “I wouldn’t blame you for chickening out.”

 

“I’m not a pussy.” Replied a second, “Ghosts aren’t real. This place isn’t haunted: it’s just creepy as fuck. Sebastian’s the real pussy.”

 

A third voice: “Dude!”

 

A door behind the receptionist desk was wide open which was another detail he didn’t seem to notice before. He was never this forgetful. Shane walked over to it and peered down yet another long corridor, but this time noticed a group of teenagers waving their flashlights around and laughing loudly. They must have been the bike owners.

 

“Hey, kids!” he shouted, and the echo bounced off the wall, “Hey!”

 

The group ignored him and continued snickering to each other. Shane didn’t like being ignored, so he trailed behind.

 

“Hello?” He tried again, but still, nothing.

 

Shane knew he couldn't just grab them, knowing full well they sounded like the type who'd claim he was sexually harassing them or something. Instead, he reached the one dragging behind the other two and pulled on his backpack -- or well, at least he tried to. His hand went right through it.

 

What the hell?

 

“Hey!” he said louder this time, and one of the kids stopped. Finally.

 

The guy seemed like he was in his late teens, dressed in a baggy sweater and sweatpants, dark hair tied back in a bun looking like he just rolled out of bed. He grabbed one of his friends by the shoulder which caused the whole group to stop walking, but sweatshirt-guy shushed them  quite loudly.

 

“Did you guys hear that?” He sounded like the one the pair had called Sebastian.

 

Shane rolled his eyes, “Really? I'm right here.”

  

Instead of looking back at him, Sebastian eyed his taller friend who snorted back a laugh

  

“Really, dude? It's gonna take more than that to scare me.”

  

“I'm serious, Dex.”

 

Dex laughed but addressed the first boy, “Told you he was a pussy.”

  

The duo continued forwards but Sebastian hesitated; he scanned the hallway and even in Shanes direction, but if the kid noticed him, he was sure good at hiding it. Either that, or he was blind. Shane stared directly at him but it didn't seem to matter, because the kid pulled out his phone and followed his friends.

  

“What the __hell?__ ” Shane wondered aloud

  

He followed the kids down the unfamiliar hallway, which was much more narrow than the ones he and Ryan had wandered though. He decided to play along with these kids’ stupid joke. They didn't want to talk to him, fine, but maybe they'd all run into Ryan eventually. He moved closer to not-so-subtlety eavesdrop.

  

“What’re we even doing here?” Sebastian muttered, and Shane figured he was taking to himself but one of his friends replied.

  

“Ghost hunting.” The nameless one’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, “I’m gonna catch me a demon scooby-doo style.”

  

Dex snorted, “I’m surprised this place is even still standing. Figured the owners would have knocked it down after what happened a couple months ago.”

  

“What happened?”

  

The nameless one turned to smirk at both his friends, but only addressed Sebastian, “It was all over twitter, dude. Some guy died here not that long ago -- fell through the ceiling or some shit and broke his neck.”

  

“Mmm watcha say..” Dex whispered and the two other boys laughed.

  

Shane narrowed his eyes at the story -- if that were true, he was sure Ryan would have told him before the investigation. The guy fired facts and information about every place they went to like a machine gun, and something as recent as that would have caught Ryan’s attention. He felt that same surge of confusion return, though.

  

He came to a halt beside Sebastian who was still ignoring his presence, and peered over the kids shoulder as he turned on his phone. He went for the twitter icon, but Shane’s eyes were drawn to something else entirely. The Date. September 16th. No, that wasn’t right. It was July 16th, so why was this kids phone set three months ahead?

  

Then, it hit him.

 

Shane laughed even though the kids couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. It made sense now. Everything that happened from the moment he ‘woke up’ started to piece together like an elaborate puzzle as the stress melted away from his body. Of course he didn’t feel pain when he opened his eyes after the fall. 

  

It was just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know that Iconic shane outfit thats just a red & black plaid button up rolled up to the elbows, black shirt underneath, with some dark jeans? fluffy hair and a scruffy face? Imagine him stuck wearing that for eternity. that's what I imagine him wearing in this. best dressed ghost in history, baby.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> choo choo here comes that angst train babey

* * *

 

 

Distant rain pounded against the asylum roof accompanied by the rolling waves of thunder; it seeped though the ceiling and dripped down through each floor, creating numerous puddles. The storm outside was more intense than expected as Shane wandered through the darkened hallways, unaffected by the rain drops.

 

After coming to the realization he was in a dream -- and a failed attempt at forcing himself to wake up -- Shane discovered the group of teens were no longer there, just gone as soon as he opened his eyes. The weather overhead had also changed: sunny and warm to a bad thunderstorm like the one they expected upon arrival.

 

It calmed Shane, despite being unable to wake up. He had lucid dreamt before, but they had never been this vivid and he didn't remember being so self-aware until the moment before he actually woke up. If it was a lucid dream, he could control his surroundings, right? You were supposed to be able to manipulate it however you wanted.

 

Closing his eyes again, he imagined himself flying -- it wasn't the best start, because he hadn't exactly had a lucid dream in a couple years. He read something once about needing practice and a whole lot of patience, but he didn't have the time for either. He just wanted to wake up and get out of this stupid place.

 

That’s how he ended up deeper in the Asylum and in a new, very large portion of the building. A set of heavy, metal doors at the end of a long hallway (this place had a lot of those) lead him into what could only be described as general population. He hadn’t seen this part from the outside, but it was massive.

 

Four stories tall, the room its self was about the side of two football fields side by side, with the walls, floor and ceiling pained the same bleary colour of grey. There were was a metal staircase in the middle of the room leading up to each level of holding cells with a thin, concrete catwalk rimming each floor but was busted out in many places.

 

Scattered across the main floor were dozens of square cafeteria tables with attached benches but that seemed to be the extent of furniture in this massive room, making it appear larger than it actually way. Some tables had lamps, others had food trays but most had stacks of books or stray papers littered atop them.

 

It occurred to him that he and Ryan had never actually gotten this far in, nor had he seen pictures of its interior, so seeing it with this much detail set off an alarm bell somewhere in the back of his mind but he ignored it for now. He wandered into the middle of the room, not knowing quite what to think of it.

 

It also occurred to him that he could read this signs. _Staff Only. Common area. Waiting Room._ Signs directing him to the Wardens office. The Cafeteria. The dormitories. Once upon a time, he saw an article somewhere about how you weren’t able to read or count in your dreams, but he never fact checked it.

 

Shane peered down at his fingers. One, two, three, four, five. On each hand. So. Counting, and reading. Check. That didn’t mean he wasn’t dreaming. Everything he had experienced this far only added fuel to that fire -- it was the only thing that made logical sense. Still, he could admit it was strange that he dreamed of this place.

 

It couldn’t hurt to explore a little bit.

 

* * *

 

Some time passed before Shane suddenly felt… something. It was like a slight tickle of familiarity in the back of his mind, accompanied by some phantom force leading him elsewhere -- his instincts took over and he ended up wandering back down the same corridor he came in through. He wasn’t exactly sure why, but he _had_ to go back.

 

It resembled the feeling of being watched, of knowing someone had just entered the room out of sight but you could feel their presence. The strange emptiness of it all was nearly instantly replaced with the sensation that he wasn’t alone in the Asylum, and he had to find out who had the ability to rock his senses like that.

 

Shane hurried down the bleak hallway, not bothering to scan any of the rooms on the way there. The presence was getting stronger, and stronger, until suddenly-

  

Ryan walked by him as if he weren’t standing in plain view, eyes trained straight ahead. It’s not like he couldn’t have seen Shane who had just emerged from the connecting corridor. _It’s not like they were literally the only two in the entire Asylum _.__  He froze and expected his friend to greet him or even get angry, but he did neither.

  

“Ryan.” He called out, but his friend didn’t hear him. He frowned and moved to follow, “Hey, Bergara!”

  

Still, Ryan didn’t hear him. It was just like his interaction with those teens, but he knew Ryan wasn’t that good of an actor. He could crack a joke and get Ryan to laugh, and that would prove all this was real and he wasn’t losing his mind. If this was a dream, though, he could get Ryan to laugh at anything. Even the Hot Daga.

  

“Ryan!” Shane persisted, catching up to his friend. He reached for Ryan’s shoulder, “There’s some stupid shit happening, and I-” His hand went right though.

  

He froze. Ryan flinched.

  

“What the fuck?” Ryan jerked away from his touch and scanned the room even though Shane was standing right behind him.

  

Shane wasn’t sure why, but he felt his chest tighten, “Ryan?”

  

There was no reply as Ryan turned back around and hurried back down the corridor now huddled into himself. A split second passed before Shane followed more cautiously this time, but now the invisible weight pressing into his chest was more obvious than ever. Why? It was just a dream. It was just a dumb dream.

  

After about thirty more seconds, Ryan’s pace slowed as he approached a hallway Shane was already tired of seeing. They were back at the start; that wide corridor with the insanely high ceiling and not very good flooring. The same one Shane remembered falling though not too long ago but he shrugged it off.

  

He moved to Ryan’s side but his shorter counterpart still didn’t notice his presence -- he swallowed audibly, hands visibly shaking as he grabbed his own biceps in some sort of self-hug. The tense, scared expression on his face was one Shane had seen countless times, but this time he also noticed.. sadness? 

 

“I, uh.. I don’t..” Ryan started as he came to a halt a couple feet away from the pile of debris Shane had woken up in. He shook his head, “Fuck, why am I even here?”

 

Shane didn’t respond.

 

“They said I should-- that I need to--” He paused and squeezed his eyes shut before speaking again, “Okay. Okay. Okay, fuck.”

 

“Spit it out, Bergara.” Shane told him.

 

Ryan opened his eyes, “I’m supposed to start moving on. That’s what she said. That’s what she said is healthy. That’s whats she said is normal.”

 

What the hell is he talking about?

 

“It’s been three months.” Ryan breathed out a shaky laugh, “How is that enough time to grieve? How am I supposed to move on? I spilled ketchup on my favourite shirt once and didn’t even get over it for three months. That’s not enough time to..”

 

 _ _Three months__  rang out in Shane’s head, echoing what he had heard those kids say, what the date on the phone had been. He stared at Ryan, slowly starting to piece together his words. _Some guy fell through the ceiling three months ago _,__ the kid had said. Now here Ryan was, talking about three months of grieving. _No._

 

“I’m supposed to say my goodbyes and move on.” Ryan was saying, head now lowered to the ground. “I can’t. I can’t just..” He paused and sucked in a breath, “Three months..”

 

Memories Shane had been repressing slammed into him like a brick. Maybe he had just forgotten, maybe he didn’t want to remember, but it all came back in such vivid detail. The floor collapsing below him, falling… smashing into the wooden support pillar in such a way that his neck snapped instantly. No. He couldn’t be..

 

“It’s been months since you died, Shane.” Ryan exhaled, voice on the verge of tears. Shane felt cold, “Three months since I lost my best friend, and they expect me to just move on.”

 

“I’m not dead.” He spoke, unsure if he was trying to tell Ryan or convince himself, “I’m right here.”

 

Ryan quickly wiped his jacket sleeve across his eyes, “This is stupid. This is so stupid, why am I-- I don’t--” He caught his breath.

 

He reached out for Ryan, hand hovering over his friends shoulder for just a moment. Shane hesitated again, watching his own hand tremble because he didn’t want to face reality. He inhaled sharply and lowered it but just like before, it went right through Ryan’s shoulder. His hand vanished up to the wrist until the other jerked away.

 

“Why can’t you see me?” Escaped Shane as a whisper, even though the growing tightness around his heart told him exactly why.

 

Ryan’s glassy eyes scanned the corridor, face flushed as he pressed his sleeve to his eyes again. His breathing was shaky and Shane had only witnessed his friend cry a few times, but he knew Ryan was on the verge and it was enough to break his already hurting heart in half. He wanted to comfort him, to say anything at all.

 

“I’m sorry, Shane.” He mumbled, “I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t stand here without remembering how I found you in a pool of your own blood or how I felt-- how I--” His next breath was choppy, “It felt like a bad dream. I’m kind of hoping it still is. Just one long nightmare.”

 

Shane didn’t know how to respond.

 

“Stupid. Stupid. You’re stupid, Madej. If you had just listened to me in the first place-” He caught himself, “If I- If I had never picked this place you’d still be here. It’s my fault you’re dead. It’s my fucking fault.”

 

Shane remembered ignoring how the floorboards protested against his weight, how scared Ryan look when he began to jump. Ryan warned him not to but he didn’t listen; he never did, and the two had joked before about how it’d probably get him killed. He only wanted to tease his friend, and now he was..

 

“Ryan.” He called out halfheartedly.

 

This time, Ryan looked up. “And now I’m hearing things. God, they were right, Bergara, you’re really losing it.”

 

“Ryan.” He tried again, but it didn’t have the same affect.

 

“I have to go.” Ryan said, still not staring at that spot on the floor as he turned to leave, “I’m sorry Shane, I’m not as good at this as I thought I’d be.”

 

Before he couple reply, Ryan walked down the hallway and straight though Shane, who felt his whole body get warm for just a moment. It was a warmth he didn’t know he had been missing but it faded as soon as he turned around. Ryan had froze mid-step, and Shane was sure he must have felt that too.

 

He didn’t turn around. Instead, he broke out into a run, arms cradled into himself again as he raced back to the entrance.

 

“Ryan!” He yelled, racing after the other, “Ryan, wait!”

 

He easily caught up to the other, but was at a loss for what to do without the ability to touch. He soon made it to the lobby, tripping over every little thing in a frenzied panic to get out of the building but Shane could only watch with his own growing panic was the other made a bee-line towards the exit.

 

“Ryan, don’t go.” He urged, “Just wait, hang on-”

 

Ryan crossed the threshold and Shane tried to follow, but crashed into that same barrier from before. His heart caught in his throat, whole body tense. He wasn’t to push the panic back down, but it forced its way to the surface. He wasn’t scared. Shane didn’t get scared. He was supposed to be fearless. _He wasn’t scared_

 

“Ryan, don’t go-” He hated how his voice cracked, how small he sounded, “Please, Ry, it’s me. It’s Shane.”

 

He simply watched Ryan fumble for his keys as he approached the car that sat at the end of the staircase.

 

_“ Ryan!”_

 

Ryan stopped and looked over his shoulder, wide eyes staring straight at him, yet right though him at the same time. He had heard that. He must have. He hesitated for a couple more moments as Shane silently urged him to come back inside, but turned back. Shane was sure he could feel his heart stop as Ryan got in his car.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” He mumbled.

 

Ryan drove off and for the first time since waking up, Shane had never felt so alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think Shane's not too ooc at the end there- I think anyone who 'woke up' in a dark, silent and empty (haunted?) building, unable to interact with anything or anyone would be a lil bit scared.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter one, and paragraph heavy, but think of it as an intermission. Things will start getting more interesting after this :)

* * *

 

Several days came and went, time passed at an agonizingly slow pace and left him to count the minutes. It stormed, cleared up, stormed again, became sunny, but went right back to storming the next day. Usually that wouldn’t be too bad; in fact, that would be ideal weather for lounging around the house on Netflix all day.

  

Shane didn’t have Netflix, wifi, or any of that. He could only wander the entire Asylum room by room, floor by floor, exploring the underground tunnels Ryan had told him so much about, and he couldn’t be certain how much time passed in the darkness. Maybe the darkness was a cover for his subconscious not knowing what this place looked like. 

 

Maybe it was a last ditch effort to convince himself this was a dream.

 

But it wasn’t.

 

He was dead.

 

Shane didn’t want to believe it. A part of him still couldn’t. He sat against the wall, one knee brought up into his chest while the other stretched across the floor, and stared up into the ceiling he had fell from. It replayed in his mind over and over, the fall, the snap of his neck, waking up here. He died. He’s dead.

 

The part of him that already accepted it argued that it still didn’t make sense for him to be a ghost; the bitter part tried to tell him this was some sort of cruel and unusual punishment for not believing in ghosts in the first place. He wanted to laugh, but couldn’t find the energy. If only Ryan could see him now.

 

Shane recalled every time Ryan asked ‘are ghosts real?’ at the start of every investigation, and wondered how many ghosts were standing around watching as Shane shook his head. He wondered if they felt just as helpless as he did, unable to interact with someone whose right in front of you. He exhaled, now frustrated.

 

He thought about his family. His friends. How they reacted to the news of his death and how they were doing without him. He wondered what the fans thought -- the kid from before said It was all over twitter, but did they mention him by name? Or did the fans piece It together when Shane suddenly stopped showing up in videos.

 

Shane shook his head. His thoughts drifted to Ryan, who clearly wasn’t taking it very well. He would have been the first one to see Shane’s dead body -- the same guy who pisses himself when a light flickers, or the trees rustle, or when the spirit box gurgles out something resembling incoherent, drunken speech.

 

He didn’t want to think about how broken Ryan seemed because it made that phantom weight on his chest press even harder; he didn’t want to move on from this, and even though Shane wouldn’t either if the positions were flipped, that’s exactly what Ryan should do. A selfish part of himself didn’t want that though.

 

That part of himself wanted Ryan to come back, to keep taking just so he could hear his friends voice, to hear anything at all. This place clearly made an ugly wound open up again, but he couldn’t help but yearn for the company or else the silence would drive him insane. Maybe that’s how ghosts became something worse.

 

He thought about those few times he called out and Ryan had definitely heard _something _,__ or how he _felt_ something when Shane touched him. It was something even though it ultimately ended up driving the other away and now Shane was stuck here forever. Do ghosts live forever? Ryan seemed to think they do, which wasn’t great.

 

Shane shook his head to knock those thoughts out. He didn’t want to think about it, but here he was going over the logistics of spirits, rationalizing what he could and couldn’t do _as_ a ghost, finally -- if not reluctantly -- accepting ghosts were real. Shane shuddered in horror. Oh god, he was a Boogara.

 

He always admitted he could be persuaded with proof, that he was only a skeptic until someone provided him with irrefutable evidence or he saw an FBA (or something along those lines) with his own eyes. Truth be told, some of the stuff Ryan pointed out was pretty compelling, but.. well, now he had all the evidence he needed.

  

Shane just wished he hadn’t needed to die to get proof.

 

  

* * *

 

 

 

Some time later, Shane found himself back in general population. He opened his eyes to find himself sitting at one of the cafeteria tables, unable to explain how he got there. He glanced up to the large skylight spanning the entire ceiling and noticed it was sunny. Huh. It had been storming just a few minutes ago.

  

It had become a regular occurrence to Shane: blinking and suddenly being somewhere else several hours or days later. He wasn’t sure to make of it, but he wondered what happened while he did it. Did he simply fade out of existence? Where did he go? It must have been why he didn’t remember those three months after he died.

  

With only the weather, sun and moon to decipher if another day had passed, Shane felt like he’d lose his mind pretty soon. How long had it been since he’d seen those kids? Since he’d seen Ryan? Had Ryan come back in those days he couldn’t remember? It was unlikely, so he crossed his arms on the table and rested his head in them.

  

Silence.

  

Shane wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t a perfect person either, but surely he didn’t deserve this. Loneliness like he had never felt before sat as a growing ache in the pit of his stomach, and the confusion from realizing he was a ghost was teetering on the edge of turning into fear. It threatened to bring tears, but he refused to cry.

  

Still, he sucked in a deep, shaky breath and pushed himself into a sitting position where he noticed something move in the corner of his eye. His head snapped in its direction, but whatever it was had already vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Shane swallowed audibly and decided to ignore it. It was nothing. 

 

Just as he had that thought, there was suddenly a dark shape in his peripheral vision. He had only blinked and it was just.. there. It wasn’t moving, so he didn’t turn to look at it just yet. He waited. It still didn’t move. From this angle, he couldn’t discern its size or shape to make even half a guess.

 

Shane cautiously turned his whole body, not making any sudden movements and trained his eyes on it. With it properly in view now, he noticed it was a shadow against the door, clearly human shaped. It was small and not especially threatening, but even though it didn’t have eyes, he could tell it was staring straight at him.

  

“..hello?” He called out, uncertainty filing his voice.

  

It responded by moving slightly to the left.

  

“My name’s shane.” He said lamely, but continued the staring contest with the thing without eyes, “And basically.. I’m talking to a god damn ghost, like some sort of..” he trailed off and shook his head.

  

When he looked back up, the figure had moved away from the door. It was still a shadow; transparent and featureless, but now it stood motionless several feet closer than where it had been mere seconds ago. Shane jerked away and shot to his feet, eyes still trained on it. Standing, he could tell he had a foot and a half of height over it.

  

“I’m a ghost.” He told it, “You’re a ghost.” He gestured between the two of them, “We’re ghost buddies, alright? Real good spirit buds. Best friends, if I do say so myself.” 

 

Shane could have sworn he saw the figure tilt its head to the side.

 

“I love ghosts.” He said, unnerved how it was just standing there watching him, “Real big fan -- that’s me, Shane Madej, ghost lover extraordinaire.” He was glad this wasn’t being recorded. He would have denied saying it either way.

 

The figure was gone after his next blink and Shane immediately felt his shoulders relax. It was gone. It was a ghost, and it was gone. If he weren’t so rattled, he’d claim to be the worlds best ghost hunter, able to get rid of them with the promise of friendship. If that’s all it took, maybe that’s why Ryan never found any. Too busy being nice.

  

Shane ran his hands through his hair and sat back down to contemplate just what the hell he was going to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ghost is shaped like a friend


	6. VI

* * *

 

An undetermined amount of time passed before Shane opened his eyes and realized he had ended up in a random corridor. It looked the same as all the others which didn’t sit well with him. This teleportation, sleeping, or whatever, was starting to get on his nerves. He hated being at the mercy of something so terrifying.

 

Shane moved down the hallway but noticed a spur of movement across the hallway directly in front of him. It was a blur, exiting one room and entering another which he jogged towards. The room it had left was blocked off with a wooden door that definitely hadn’t opened in the last few decades. He would have heard it.

 

He peered into the room it entered, but saw nothing. It appeared to be a small storage closet filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. He was unsure if it was his eyes playing tricks or the ghost from before, but he decided it was better left alone. He didn’t exactly want to go looking for spirits; no more than when he was alive.

 

Shane had thought about it. Thought about actively seeking out any ghosts that might still be here -- logically, there had to be a few. Thousands of people died in this place, as Ryan said. If he was stuck here, it was more than likely there were others too. He had no way of knowing if any of them were friendly or not.

 

That black shadow from earlier had been his only solid evidence he wasn’t alone here, and he scared it off. If it was from the late 18th century, then he wasn’t exactly using period-appropriate language, nor was he dressed the same way. Maybe he hadn’t seen any other ghosts because he freaked them out. What a twist.

 

Something interrupted his thoughts, though. A voice. It was distant and incoherent, but he heard it. Shane drifted through the maze of hallways and soon felt that same insistent tug in his gut from a while ago, the same feeling he got the first time he saw Ryan again. He hurried his pace, hoping it was the same thing.

 

“-here again.” The voice said. Yes. He’d recognize Ryan’s voice anywhere, “-even though I don’t want to be.”

 

Ryan was sitting against the wall, knees pulled into his chest with his arms wrapped around them. He looked even smaller than he usually did, but Shane slowly approached from the other end of the hall, unnoticed like before. Ryan was staring at the opposite wall, averting his gaze from the small pile of debris next to him.

 

Hesitating for only a moment, Shane moved to sit next to him but was careful to leave a foot or so of space between them. He wanted to move closer, to sit shoulder-to-shoulder like they usually did, but also didn’t want to spook his buddy. He stretched his long legs out, put his hands on either side of himself, and listened.

 

“Shane, bud,” Ryan mumbled, “I don’t know what to do with myself. Dr. Hylia says coming here might help me heal.”

 

Who?

 

“My therapist.” Ryan continued as if he had heard Shane speak, then let out a bitter laugh, “Can you believe it? I’ve got a therapist.”

 

He didn’t reply.

 

“I was a mess after you died, Shane.” He stared at the floor, “would barely leave my place, hardly showed up for work.. I didn’t want a therapist, but she convinced me.” He paused, “She’s real tall, like you. She’s got a framed drawing of a hot dog from her son; it got me to smile and I ended up talking to her about the fuckin’ Hot Daga.”

 

A small smile formed on Shane’s face.

 

“She says you sounded like a charming, handsome young man.” Ryan rolled his eyes but Shane noticed he was smiling too, “One of our sessions I spent the whole hour showing her unsolved videos to prove to her how ugly you are-” He snorted “-But really, I guess I just.. wanted to see your face again. I think she knew too.”

 

Shane leaned his head back against the wall, “I knew you liked me, Bergara.”

 

Ryan was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “She dosen’t believe in ghosts. My therapist is a Shaniac.”

 

He laughed, and it felt good.

 

Ryan went quiet for a couple more seconds, then let out a heavy sigh like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, “I shouldn’t be here. I mean, it’s not like you can even hear me. You’re probably kickin’ it with MJ in the afterlife, or something.”

 

The corridor plunged into silence after that, only broken by Ryan’s occasional sniffle but he was trying hard not to break down again. Shane didn’t know how to get his attention; his best friend was sitting so close to him, yet he was so far out of reach. Touching didn’t work. Speaking didn’t work, and he knew Ryan wouldn’t stay much longer.

 

Shane stood up and quickly vanished into one of the nearby rooms he had explored earlier. It was no larger than an average bedroom but was almost completely empty say for about five bookshelves littered with novels and notepads, and a rusted metal desk with a large, heavy computer sitting on it along with various trinkets.

 

A tiny, dark blue stress ball sitting on the corner caught his attention so he moved over to it with determination on his face. He tried to poke it, but his finger went right though. Several more attempts had the same result, so he huffed in frustration. He tried to pick it up, but grabbed nothing except air. He growled something incoherent and swatted it.

 

That time, however, the ball flew off the table as if he had truck it full force and hit the floor rolling. He followed as it rolled straight out the door and stopped a foot and a half outside, and looked up to see if it had caught Ryan’s attention. He was staring over at the stress-ball, eyes wide and panic on his face.

 

“Don’t leave, Ry.” Shane murmured, “Think. Just think about it.”

 

Ryan scanned the corridor, but his gaze landed back on the ball. “It’s just the wind. Just the wind.”

 

“Oh, come _on._ ” He groaned, knowing if this was an investigation, Ryan would have come up with seventeen different ways to blame it on a ghost wanting to play fetch.

 

He kicked the ball in a huff, and it rolled forwards several more feet, resulting in a surprised yelp from Ryan. He stood up faster than a bullet and stumbled back, but didn’t retreat completely. Shane held his breath but didn’t want to push his luck -- any more, and he might scare his friend off for good.

 

Ryan slowly inched forwards, eyed trained on the ball, then looked up to peer in the room it came from. He shuffled inside and Shane stood in the doorway, waiting. The room only had one double pane window, shutters pressed closed with only a tiny hole in the glass. It wasn’t enough for a draft, but Ryan had jumped to bigger conclusions before.

 

“Is there- are there.. any, uh..” He paused, “..ghosts, in here?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Ryan didn’t hear him. Instead, he glanced over his shoulder back at the stress-ball and if this situation wasn’t so tense, Shane would laugh about how Ryan was looking straight at his crotch. With one last look around the room, he turned and walked out of the room and right though Shane - again.

 

And again, that same warm, familiar heat spread through his veins. Behind him, Ryan’s breath hitched.

 

“Okay.” He said as Shane turned around, “I’m done. Fuck this.”

 

He started down the hall which sent panic flaring through Shane again -- he had to keep Ryan here, had to get his attention. Without thinking, he kicked the stress-ball as hard as he could and intended for it to fly past Ryan but instead hit him in the back of his legs. He winced as Ryan let out another surprised yelp.

 

Ryan turned and instinctively kicked the ball back, but as soon as he moved to turn back around, the ball hit Shane’s thigh. He blinked. Ryan stared. It _hit_ him like he was a solid object. It just stopped dead in its tracks and to Ryan, probably looked as if it hit an invisible wall. He stared back at his friend, but Ryan’s face was unreadable.

 

“Now’s your chance to prove ghosts are real.” Shane told him and tried to nudge the ball again with no success, “Don’t go.”

 

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and put his face in his hands, “Oh, what the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck..?” Those hands combed though his hair as he stared at the ball, “Is there some sort of.. ghost dog?”

 

Shane scoffed.

 

“What am I saying?” Ryan grumbled, “Dogs can’t talk. Uh.. if there’s anyone here.. can you, like, move it again?”

 

He tried multiple times, but it wouldn’t budge. Shane wanted to rip his hair out in frustration

 

“You’re not trying to hurt me.” Ryan said, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself, “You’re just.. lonely, right?”

 

To avoid the oncoming sadness he felt with that question, Shane bitterly lifted his foot up and tried to kick the ball backwards. His stare focused on Ryan whose eyes widened again; the ball actually moved and it rolled down the hall father than any previous attempts. He stepped aside as Ryan slowly went to retrieve it.

 

This part of the hallway was covered in graffiti. From gang signs to weird quotes or messages, these walls had it all. Most of it were just names along with a date the person visited. The ball had stopped near a particular large cluster of names, which Shane skimmed over as Ryan knelt down and picked up the ball.

 

As soon as Ryan stood back up, he inhaled sharply. The very first name he must have seen, spray painted in large, red bubble letters: Shayne. Even though it was misspelled, Shane wanted to call it a coincidence that the ball had rolled in just the right spot and showed Ryan just the right name to get the gears turning.

 

“Shane..” He mumbled, then put his face in his hands.

 

Distressed, Shane moved to place a comforting hand on Ryan’s back between his shoulder blades. It was gentle, or at least he tried to be. He wasn’t exactly sure about the specifics of ghost-physics yet, but it seemed to get a different response. Ryan tensed and lowered his arms, but remained rooted in place.

 

“It’s me.” Shane tried again, “I’m here.”

  

Ryan simply stared at the name on the wall. “If there’s a ghost here, right now, uh..” He paused, then slowly held out his hand. It was trembling like a leaf, and Shane knew Ryan was barely keeping his courage together. “Touch my hand.”

  

If Shane touched his hand, he’d probably pass out. If he didn’t, Ryan would probably leave and never come back. Neither option was good, but he opted for the first. Shane took a deep breath but slowly, and carefully pressed his fingertips against Ryan’s palm who instantly flinched at the contact. 

 

“Fuck, fuck fuck-” His voice trembled, but only lasted a few seconds before ripping his hand away and balled it into a fist at his side, “-it’s not gonna hurt me, it’s not gonna hurt me.”

 

Shane pulled his other hand away from Ryan’s back, careful not to startle him but it seemed he had instantly noticed the lack of warmth or cold, or whatever a living person felt when a ghost touched them. Shane stood back and watched his friends reaction; Ryan had taken a few more deep breaths to calm himself.

 

“You probably know me.” Ryan said and averting his eyes from the wall and turned back to the stress ball, “I was here a while ago with a friend of mine, um, we were looking for ghosts.”

 

“We found ‘em.” Shane replied bitterly.

 

Ryan looked nervous as he fidgeted with his fingers, “I don’t know if I’m talking to a ghost but, uh, clearly you can hear me so.. I want- if you’re still here, can you, like..”

 

He reached forwards and touched Ryan’s shoulder again.

 

“Okay- jesus! Fuck, uh-” Ryan sputtered and scanned the corridor the way he had come, “You can understand me. That means you- I mean, just touch my shoulder for ‘yes’, okay?”

 

He did again.

 

Ryan cursed under his breath, “Okay, okay, okay. I can’t fucking believe I’m talking to-” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, “My names Ryan. I’m apparently the biggest idiot on the planet but-”

 

Shane touched his shoulder and grinned, despite the circumstances.

 

A pause. Ryan frowned as he seemed to realize why he felt the tap on his shoulder again, “A ghost with a sense of humor, huh?” he asked dryly, previous fear completely dissolved in that split second, “Okay. I just need to know something.”

 

Shane felt like he already knew the question.

 

“Did he- I mean, the guy I came here with. His name was Shane.” Ryan breathed out, then paused again. “He died. Maybe you already knew that, or, uh, maybe you didn’t. Were you here when that.. happened?”

 

Shane wanted to do more than touch his shoulder for yes. He wanted to yell that he was standing right here, but knew none if it would work. He had to stay calm. He had to keep Ryan here.

 

“Okay.” Ryan said at the affirmative shoulder touch. He suddenly looked nervous as he bit his bottom lip, “Okay. My friend, Shane, he’s not- I mean, is- is he.. um, here?”

 

Almost as soon as he heard the last word and went to reach out, Shane was suddenly somewhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sike!!!!!


	7. VII

* * *

 

The next few days were agonizingly frustrating as Shane focused most of his energy into trying to move things around. It was a slow endeavor at first because the harder he tried, the less it worked. Papers, pens, picture frames, even things as small as paperclips? Forget about it. He had no idea how he managed to move the stress ball.

 

Ironic, since he could use one of those right about now. If he spent any more time pulling at his hair, he was going to rip it out real soon and he wasn’t quite sure if ghost hair regrew. He concentrated on the ball after countless attempts and wasted hours of trying to pick up anything at all or even opening a door.

 

Shane recalled the first time he went to push a door open and fell right through it; the entire experience had been so incredibly surreal that he had one of those ghost-blackouts right after. He tried to avoid closed doors after that, and ignored the part of his brain that questioned why he went though walls and doors but not the solid floor.

 

So there he was, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor with the stress ball in-front of him. He had been staring at it intently for hours now with his hands steadily hovering on either side, but absolutely no progress had been made. He was a very patient person, but this was starting to get on his last nerves.

 

Shane knew he couldn’t expect to master ghost physics in such a short period of time, but he had to do something. He wanted to be able to pick up a pen and write his situation down on paper, wanted to open a book and have something to read, or even learn how to become visible to people. To Ryan.

 

The thought of Ryan put him in a bad mood all over again -- he had been close. So _close_. A touch away from revealing the truth to his friend, but of course it had been too good to be true. He had communicated with Ryan, gotten him to stay and question things, and perhaps even given him a reason to return.

 

He thought about the questions Ryan had asked. He was a smart guy -- smarter than Shane had ever given him credit for -- but was so dense sometimes. If ghostly activity started occurred right after you finished talking about your dead friend, __and__ you were shown his name on the wall, one might put two and two together.

 

Still, he understood. Ryan had no reason to believe Shane was a ghost; he probably went home that night and blamed it on some random spirit fucking with him for kicks. Though the fact that he was able to fuck with his friend, to __touch__ a living person when for some reason he couldn’t even touch a rubber ball, was infuriating.

 

He swatted the ball away from him after the umpteenth angry sigh and went back to staring at the floor. He wasn’t surprised it moved that time; it liked to pick and choose its moments to work. It was some sort of cruel joke. However, he was surprised when the ball rolled right back to him and bumped into his shins.

 

Shane looked up to see the same shadowy, featureless figure from before standing several meters away from him. He tensed, but didn’t make a move to get up. It was a ghost. He was a ghost. Ghosts didn’t (and hopefully couldn’t) hurt each other. Besides, if this thing wanted to hurt him, it’d have done so already.

 

“Uh, hello.” He stared at it intently. He was at a loss for words. What should he say? Do you make small talk with a ghost? “How’s it going?” _Nailed it._

__

It didn’t respond.

 

“Cool, me too.” He replied with a curt nod, “I’m just sitting here, wallowing in my own misery that’s likely to last an eternity, and plunge me into fear-based insanity.”

 

It cocked its head to the side.

 

Shane gave it a quick once-over, and instantly came to the realization that it was shorter than he thought. Even sitting down, back straight, he was only a few inches taller than it. Short, lanky and small all around even with its arms at its sides, which didn’t take a detective to figure out it must have been a kid.

 

The thought didn’t sit well with him. This was an Asylum for people deemed ‘incurable’, ‘unstable’ or ‘abnormal’, even though Ryan had told him even people with something as simple as ADHD were put in here. Yet, this figure in front of him had to be younger than ten, maybe even younger if he could see its face.

 

Shane glanced down at the ball briefly which it had rolled back towards him.

 

“You’re bored too, huh?” He asked.

 

It didn’t move closer, but it knelt down and held out its hands. Shane hesitated for a moment before he realized what it wanted and tried his best to keep his cool. Without really thinking about it, he pushed the ball forwards and watched it roll towards the ghost’s expectant hands. It stopped on contact.

 

The ghost rolled the ball in its hands back and fourth for a few seconds, and Shane watched in awe as it effortlessly, and continuously, managed to touch the thing. He tried not to be too bitter about that -- it had more practice with this sort of thing, he guessed. The ghost paused, looked back up at him, then rolled it back over.

 

Shane didn’t want to think about what he was doing. Accepting that he was playing catch with a ghost would definitely melt a few different parts of his brain, so he just focused on rolling the ball back over and over to his new acquaintance. It took him a couple minutes to register he was also now continuously touching the ball.

 

As soon as he had that thought, his hand went right though it.

 

“For fu-” He caught himself when he remembered who his ghostly company was, “This is stupid.”

 

The figure still watched him intently, hands now settled into its lap at realizing the game was over.

 

“Er, sorry about that.” He told it as he scratched his neck, “My ball touching skills are a little rusty.” He blinked, “Uh, okay, hold on, that didn’t come out right-”

 

He stopped when he realized the ghost’s shoulders were shaking slightly. Wait. Was it laughing? Did he make a ghost laugh?

 

“You’re way too young to be able to understand that.” Shane told it, then frowned when he realized he was scolding a ghost. “So just excuse my potty mouth.”

 

It cocked its head to the side again and Shane had the strangest feeling that it was smiling. He quickly looked away though and put his head in his hands to nurse the oncoming headache; this was too much to process all at once and for the first time since accepting he was dead, he wanted to wake up from this bad dream.

 

He wanted to go back to a normal life where ghosts didn’t exist, wanted to walk into work with a coffee, five minutes late and tease Ryan who had fallen asleep at his desk working on the next unsolved episode. He wanted to eat, drink, sleep -- he’d probably kill to lay on a soft mattress again, or even touch a pillow.

 

Suddenly, the ghost was in front of him, so he looked up to face it but it seemed to move right past.

 

Shane stayed glued to the spot as the figure passed and couldn't help but stare at the way it walked. Not quite hovering, not quite completely walking, but it's legs weren’t moving in sync with how quickly it went. It disappeared down towards the graffiti so Shane decided to follow and see what it was doing.

 

It came to a stop and looked over its shoulder at him, then pointed to a name on the wall. The name name Ryan had seen the last time he was here. _Shayne_. It stared at him and tapped the name three times in quick succession, so he figured that was it's way of asking a question without actually saying a word.

 

“Yeah,” he gave a quick nod, “My names Shane.”

  

It pulled away and scanned the walls for something else, then shuffled over to the opposite side that was in much worse condition. Still, it pointed to a much smaller name, lower down on the wall that was just out of reach of the light and looked back up at him. He had to kneel down and squint to make out the word. 

 

“Eli?” He asked, “is that your name?”

 

It nodded so slowly he barely noticed.

 

“What're you doing in a place like this, Eli?” He asked

 

At the mention of its name, it -- or rather Eli, pulled away from its own name and moved back over to where the Shayne was written. It pointed to the name and again, tapped it, but he had absolutely no idea what that meant, and figured he couldn't ask if it could only communicate by pointing to names on a wall.

 

“I have no idea what you're trying to say.”

 

It stared at him for a few moments then turned it's attention back to the wall and searched for a new name. It look a little longer than before, but eventually it shuffled farther down the hallway and gestured for him to come closer as it pointed out a different name. Rian. He frowned, not understanding at first but then it clicked.

 

“Ryan.” He said, mostly to himself, an then a little louder: “You’re talking about Ryan, right? The guy that sometimes comes here?”

 

It nodded, then pointed to another word. _Friends._

 

“Yeah, he’s my friend.” Shane tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My best friend.”

 

There were a few more seconds of silence before it pointed to the phrase ‘fall of 2006’, but tapped intently on ‘fall’ and then gestured down the hall. Shane had to process that one for a solid minute, but once he peered back down the corridor, his eyes drifted to the ceiling and suddenly he understood.

 

“I.. yeah, I fell.” He agreed, then turned to look back at it, “Did you..- were you here when that happened?”

 

It nodded then tapped on ‘Rian’ again.

 

“I think he knows I’m here.” Shane told it, then something occurred to him, “Has he.. been here when I’m not?”

  

The ghost held up two fingers.

  

Twice. Ryan had been here _twice_ while he was gone, sleeping, or whatever the term was.The thought was as comforting as it was worrying -- on one hand, Ryan was persistent and had a lot to say or wanted proof after what happened. On the other hand, he worried Ryan might not come back if he visited during one if his blackouts.

 

Shane pursed his lips and wondered if he should ask anything else. A mute ghost wasn’t going to be helpful for much longer, despite its attempts to communicate. He could only interpret so much of what it meant to say, but couldn’t. He stared at it curiously, but a warm sensation interrupted what he was going to say next.

  

He looked over his shoulder to see another figure at the end of the corridor -- a far more welcome, and familiar one. Ryan approached the same spot and stopped like an invisible barrier prevented him from going any further, then loudly exhaled. He clearly didn’t see Shane as he slid a backpack off his shoulders.

  

“Hey, maybe we can-” shane started, looking back over his shoulder but stopped mid-sentence, because the ghost wasn’t there anymore. “-Eli?”

  

It didn’t return, so Shane shrugged it off and turned back to Ryan, now sitting down on the floor.

 

“Alright, Ry.” He murmured as he walked over to his friend, “eighty third times a charm.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ur not a real shaniac until you write a fic about ur leader himself as a ghost, talking to ghosts


	8. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for all the angst but i promise it gets better for the ghoul boys

Unlike the previous times he visited, Ryan didn’t say anything straight away. In fact, he didn’t speak for the first hour or so as he sat with his back to the wall and hugged the backpack close to his chest. He spent most of it with his eyes closed, as if he was waiting or listening for something. Shane kept quiet.

 

While waiting for the other to speak, his eyes drifted around the corridor and realized just how adjusted to the dark his vision had become. The windows were caked in grime and for the most part, boarded up, leaving only the slimmest rays of moonlight to struggle though -- barely any of that reached the corridor, though.

 

A spider drifted down into the space between them, and his eyes followed the thin string to a massive cluster of cobwebs in the rafters and corners. The pillars were splintered in dozens of different areas but it seemed to stem from the walls; covered with cracks resembling fissures that moss grew from.

 

Even though the floor was made of concrete, it was cracked even worse and had chucks missing as if someone had come in with a sledgehammer. Moss, weeds and grass sprouted up through those holes which gave the impression this place was much older than it was. Funny how fast nature can reclaim things.

 

Shane was shaken from his daze when Ryan swatted the spider dangling down in front of them, then mumbled something about ghost spiders. He waved his arm to clear the space in front of himself, then brought his hand back into his chest.

 

He couldn’t help but stare at his friend and notice how awful he looked Dark bags under his half-lidded eyes, ashy, almost pale skin, a hoodie pulled up over his disheveled hair as if he hadn’t brushed it in days, baggy sweater and sweatpants to signify he hadn’t cared enough to change before leaving. Ryan never wore sweatpants outside.

 

He had a few days worth of scruff on his face, which was definitely longer than he usually let it become. His mouth was turned into a half-pout, bottom lip sticking out a little further but it looked dried out and cracked, spit open in a few different areas and slightly swollen like he had spent the last couple days biting it.

  

Shane looked away as if he had been caught staring, but decided it was probably weird to notice so much about his friends lips.

 

When there was an indistinguishable noise, his eyes would snap open and scan the corridor. Since Shane was sitting directly in front of him, Ryan stared right though him, eyes level with his jaw. In those few minutes he sat there staring, Shane was able to read the look on his face. He saw a familiar spark; Ryan had an idea on the back burner.

 

Maybe he wouldn’t say what it was out loud, or maybe he would, but soon enough, Shane couldn’t take the silence anymore. He shifted closer and said; “ _Ryan._ ”

 

Ryan visibly tensed, but kept staring at the wall. Through him. He was silent for a few moments, then replied with a quiet, “Shane?”

 

“Yeah, buddy.” He nodded, even though he was still invisible, “It’s me. It’s me, Ryan.”

 

If the words had been heard, Ryan made no indication of it and didn’t react. He waited for several more seconds, then exhaled and shook his head but Shane wanted to punch something. Instead, he willed himself to calm down, moved to next to Ryan, legs crossed with his head in his hands while he mumbled a string of curses.

 

“Looks like she was right.” Ryan finally said, so Shane slowly looked up at him, “Dr. Hylia thinks I’m getting worse.”

 

Shane kept quiet.

 

“I haven’t told her I talk to you as if you’re actually here,” Ryan told him, and held a forced smile for a couple moments, “even though I know you’re not. I came here hours after I left the other day-” Shane blinked in surprise at that “-and flat out asked if you were here. I needed to know. But you’re not. Of course you’re not.”

 

“But you came back.”

 

“But I came back.” Ryan continued and nodded to himself, “Cause I’m stubborn-”

 

He was, and Shane had never been more thankful for it.

 

“-and before I left, I saw something. It looked like a shadow, or something, but it was almost 3D.” Ryan explained, “I know if you were here you’d be rolling your eyes, but I swear it was a ghost. Too short and tiny to be you, but it-” His breath hitched, “-followed me, I think. It stood there in a window as I drove off.”

 

Shane pursed his lips. It must have been Eli, even though it had gotten startled and vanished when the two had seen Ryan arrive earlier. He wasn’t quite sure why it would have followed Ryan out, despite knowing his name and knowing he and Shane were friends. Was it trying to get him to stay, or was it just curious?

 

“It freaked me out,” Ryan continued, “but it also made me siked as hell, cause it proved ghosts were real-- to me, anyway. So I figured if it followed me, it must have been the one I talked to the other day. Ghosts are real, which means theres a chance you could be one, as ridiculous and far fetched as that sounds. I just have to find you.”

 

Shane wanted to reach out, but knew it wouldn’t do much good. “You already have.”

  

Ryan continued, not having heard the reply.

  

“-And.. I have this feeling in my gut I can’t really describe. Cause I swear to god I heard your voice just now, and you said my name, and just like the first time I visited, I thought that I-- that you called my name,” He fiddled with his fingers, “Maybe its just in my head, I mean, it probably is, but like I said..”

  

A pause.

  

“...I’m stubborn. So here I am,” He unzipped the backpack and pulled out a rolled up sleeping bag. Shane grinned. “I’m not leaving this goddamn asylum until I get my proof, because I know I’m right. I’ve been right so far about ghosts and the supernatural; I’m on a winning streak. Boogaras 1, Shaniacs 0.”

  

Shane laughed.

  

* * *

 

About an hour later, Ryan had moved from the hallway into the nearby room that the stress ball had originally been in. He cleared a space on the floor near the desk and laid out his sleeping bag along with a pillow which he dusted off every ten seconds. He sat on it, back against the desk with a bag of goldfish crackers in his lap.

  

It seemed like he didn’t have much of an appetite though, only plucking one into his mouth at a time every few minutes. He stared down at the floor in front of his crossed legs, less talkative than he was before and Shane couldn’t blame him. He had no idea if he really was talking to a ghost or just the air. He had a lot of faith.

  

Shane couldn’t say the same -- if the situations were flipped, if Ryan had died during an investigation, he wouldn’t have come back. He knew that as a fact. He’d label it an accident. Wouldn’t have even once entertained the idea that Ryan was a ghost and stuck here. He’d stay at home and grieve, possibly trapping Ryan here.

  

In a way, he was glad it was him and not Ryan. Being dead sucked, but at least his best friend was a hardcore believer in the supernatural. Coming back to this place was a part of his grieving process -- Shane would have never wanted to see this building ever again and would do everything in his power to avoid it.

  

Still, it made him curious what Ryan had in mind. “Talk to me, Bergara. The silence is killing me.”

  

Predictably, he didn’t reply. With his face down, Shane didn’t know anything was wrong until Ryan’s first sniffle, followed by another and another. He toyed with one of the crackers, breaking off little pieces of it as a distraction but his sniffles didn’t evolve into anything worse; Shane wanted to keep it that way.

  

“I feel like shit, Shane.” He mumbled, “I feel like I’ve been lying to you and I’m- you’re not even- I’ve already told you more than I’ve told my own therapist but..”

  

Shane inched closer, “I’m listening, Ry.”

  

“I stopped taking the meds. I just dump them all down the garbage disposal and refill my prescription so she doesn't get suspicious.” He said, voice quieter now, “I know I should take them, but I can’t. They take away the pain, but that’s the problem. I’m worried I’ll take a few dozen too many at once.”

 

A tight fist wrapped around Shane’s heart at the words; he knew exactly what Ryan meant.

 

“I’ve thought about it.” He continued, then let out a shaky laugh. “I’ve thought about it more than once, but I never- fuck, okay. I tried it once. It was a week after the funeral-” His voice cracked at the last word and Shane felt numb listening to this, “-and god, I’d never hurt so fucking much before, Shane. I thought it was the only way.”

 

“I’ve had family members die before, but losing you felt worse than any of that. The grief and the trauma, not to mention the guilt-” Ryan swallowed audibility, and Shane wanted to console him. It wasn’t his fault. “-It was too much. It was too fucking much, so I downed a dozen pills and went to bed.”

 

His voice was hollow now, eyes since drifted to the floor, “But I had a dream about you- about us, just sitting in a field at night. It was calm. Relaxing. I thought I was dead, but you finally looked at me and I could see how..  _disappointed_  you were. You didn’t say anything, but I knew what I had done was selfish.”

 

“I couldn’t talk for three days after how much I vomited that night after waking up.” He shook his head, “Too ashamed to go to the hospital, so I just ate ice cream and cried. That was around the same time Dr. Hylia came to see me, cause I refused to leave my place. She just talked enough for the both of us, which was nice.”

  

Ryan was quiet for a long time, then he continued.

  

“She’s trying her best. She really is, but I don’t want any treatments, or more meds to take, or whatever. I want you back, Shane. I know she can’t give me that but she-- this is the closest I’ll come, just, sitting here, talking to you even though you can’t hear me. If I told anyone about this they’d think I was off my rocker.”

  

Shane didn’t know what to say.

 

“I miss you, Shane.” It was almost a whisper now, “Your dumb jokes and your stupid, wheezy laugh. Your goofy personality and the way you brighten up a room just by walking in, how fearless and confident you were during investigations. Even though you teased me, having you there made me feel so much better.”

  

Ryan paused for a moment, “I still re-watch some of the old episodes -- like the Goatman one, and laugh,” his lips twitched into a smile, “God, you were so fucking funny in that episode, Shane, I was just too scared in the moment to realize how ridiculous the whole thing was. You’re too humorous for your own good, and I miss that too.”

  

Shane smiled too and kept staring at him. It was the deepest, if not only heart-to-heart they’d ever had, but if he ever became spectral he’d lode this over Ryan’s head forever.

  

“And if you’re here somehow recording everything I’m saying for blackmail purposes, just know that what I’m about to say isn’t admissible in court, and you have no proof I  _ _did__  say it..” He took a deep breath, and Shane’s smile turned into a grin because he knew what Ryan was about to say, “..the Hot Daga was actually pretty funny.”

  

Shane clapped his hands together in triumph, “Well I’ll be damned, Bergara! The truth at last.”

  

“I liked it.” He admitted, “Only a little. It was weird, oddly charming, but was full of your weird charm that I Iike so much.” He shook his head, “I, um.. miss it too, in a way. I’d gladly listen to a four hour novel of the Hot  Daga if it meant having you back, Shane.

  

“Only four hours?”

  

The smile stayed on Ryan’s face for a couple more moments and Shane couldn’t help but stare; after everything he’d heard tonight, and after seeing his best friend so upset, it was nice to see a smile in such a shitty situation. His eyes were still sad, but they sparkled with that familiar warmth he liked so much.

 

“I’m gonna have a nap, but afterwards..” His eyes drifted to his backpack, “I brought something. I know you’re gonna fuckin’ hate it, but..”

 

Ryan reached for his backpack and pulled out a very familiar black box Shane had never been happy to see before, but now?

 

Shane grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ryan actually loves the hot daga, he just pretends to hate it, and if u disagree u can kiss my apple taters thanks for coming to my TED talk


	9. IX

* * *

 

Getting Ryan Bergara to fall asleep in a haunted, abandoned location was no easy task and was usually followed by hours of restless shifting, incoherent mumbles, or periods of blankly staring at the ceiling. He didn’t think he could name one occurrence where Ryan had actually slept for longer than five minutes.

 

Shane had always fell asleep moments after his had hit the pillow, scary murder hospital or not. One of the many perks of being a skeptic, he supposed, was not worrying that a demon would stab them to death in their sleep. Of course, he’d constantly be woken up by an anxious, sleep-deprived Ryan who claimed to hear something.

 

So while Shane sat next to Ryan’s sleeping bag, he watched as his friend took just under an hour to finally get comfortable. He tried to pull the flap completely over himself, but emerged minutes later to complain about how hot it was. He then tried leaving an arm slung outside the sleeping bag, but that didn’t last long.

 

Finally, he rolled over to face Shane and stared at the far wall.

 

“Just close your eyes, Ry.” He mumbled, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

 

It was very obvious just how exhausted his friend was, and it made Shane worry for his health.

 

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

 

Ryan shut his eyes and exhaled, then wiggled his whole body once more before going still. His breathing became slower, body relaxed and the stress seemed to melt off his face.

 

“Catch those Z’s, Ryan.” He nodded to himself, “I’ll be waiting for ya. Someones gotta protect you from the ghosties, after all.” A smile formed on his face, “There don’t seem to be that many, though. Makes my job much easier.”

 

Ryan mumbled something, then again more coherent; “..shut up, Shane.”

 

It wasn’t much longer before Ryan was soundly asleep, a hand clutched onto the pillow next to his face. His mouth was slightly open to let out a string of soft snores and a few drops of drool but he looked so peaceful.  Shane was suddenly struck with the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him.

 

His hand moved before his brain registered it. He brushed fingers across Ryan’s scruffy jaw, traced his cheek bone with a thumb and couldn’t help but notice how warm he felt. It was the same warmth he experienced those few times Ryan walked through him, but figured it had something to do with how he was a living person.

 

Still, it felt nice to be able to feel something besides this complete lack of anything at all. He smiled down at Ryan with an affection he hadn’t felt in a long time, but moved his hand over Ryan’s face to brush a rebellious strand of hair off his forehead. He shifted slightly but the touch didn’t seem to wake him up.

 

He needed the sleep, but Shane’s eyes drifted to the spirit box. It was a strange sight to see now. He wasn’t exactly sure how Ryan managed to get it without raising any suspicions around the office -- he figured all the stuff for Unsolved was already put into the back of a storage room by now. Maybe they gave it to Ryan.

 

Words couldn’t describe how much Shane hated the spirit box, but for once he was glad to see it. The way it was supposed to work still seemed like bullshit, and really? It didn’t make sense. But maybe it really did work, maybe they had actually contacted ghosts before and it was actually a reliable form of communication.

 

Doubt still clouded his mind, but he pushed all the fore-fronting skepticism aside. He’d give it a shot. He wasn’t looking forward to the god awful noise it made but wondered if it was any easier on the ears while on the receiving end. Either way, he’d have to push through it if he wanted to make any progress.

 

In the meantime, Shane shuffled closer and started to brush dust off the floor before he remembered his touch didn’t do anything. With a defeated sigh, he decided to lie down on the hard floor next to his friend with a hand behind his head as a makeshift pillow. The other hand sat on his chest, fingers tapping away.

 

“Sweet dreams, Ry.” He mumbled, then closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Shane didn’t sleep, but it was nice to lie there for an hour or two. He could almost pretend this was an investigation just like old times as he listened to the grasshoppers chirp outside and the light skittering of mice in the walls. It was somewhat peaceful at night, but he had never sat still long enough to realize it.

  

He was suddenly broken out of those thoughts when he sensed another presence, so he glanced up to the doorway. The familiar, small shape of Eli was standing there, still as a statue but watched him intently. After a moment, Its head moved over to stare at Ryan’s sleeping form but didn’t enter the room. 

 

“Hey there.” Was his lame greeting, but he pushed himself into a sitting position anyway.

 

It simply stood there focused on Ryan.

 

“You know him, right? He’s my friend.” Shane assured, but was surprised with himself at how relaxed he felt around it; this child-sized ghost that seemed even more intrigued by him. It hadn’t done anything to suggest it was dangerous (even though Ryan constantly said demons regularly presented themselves as children).

 

Eli flinched when Ryan shifted ever so slightly, but the movement was enough to startle it back a few feet.

 

“He’d be more scared of you, than you are of him.” Shane promised and gestured towards the box, “He just wants to talk.”

 

It cocked its head to the side, but as soon as it stepped into the room, the ear-piercing, disorienting crackle cut through the silence as the spirit box blasted on at full volume. Shane winced at the noise, instantly aware of how much harder on the ears it was in his current state and that was really saying something.

 

Ryan’s eyes shot open and his whole body tried to jerk upwards but was trapped by the sleeping bag. Dazed, he flailed his arms around until he could pull himself upright while intense, yet tired eyes scanned the room at a million miles an hour. The box finally drew in his gaze, radio knobs flickering wildly between channels.

 

“What- who’s there?” He demanded. Shane glanced around as well but Eli had disappeared from its spot at the door, “Is someone here?”

 

''͝ **Ÿͭ̃͂͐͋es͐̌̏ͦ'͛ͩ̉̅'** Echoed out of the box as soon as the words left Shane’s mouth, whose eyes went wide.

 

Ryan’s face mirrored his own as he backed away from the spirit box while still half inside the sleeping bag, “wh-who? Can you tell me your name?”

 

“Shane.” He said more forcefully, but the box simply produced more nerve-grinding static.

 

There was a moments hesitation before Ryan forced himself over to the box, and before Shane could protest, shut it off. He quickly sat back, pressed his face into his hands, let out a shaky exhale and scanned the room again. He looked tense, and Shane would be too if he had to wake up to a spirit box alarm clock.

 

“I’m gonna try this again.” Ryan announced as he pulled the rest of himself out of his sleeping bag, “If you’re still here.. well, sorry about how bad this sounds.”

 

He flicked it on and Shane clenched his jaw, instantly annoyed but he knew he had to push through it.

 

“Understatement of the century, Bergara.” Shane said, “It feels like my-”

 

'͝'̸- **e̡ars͞ ͝a͜re blee̶d̢ing** -"

****

Ryan’s eyes stayed wide while Shane frowned. The voice that came out of it definitely wasn’t shane’s, and he supposed that made sense. It sounded like a way older man with a deeper voice, which made him wonder if he had to say the exact same thing as someone on the radio at the exact same time they did for it to work.

 

“Uh, yeah, you- I’m sorry about that,” Ryan replied a little sheepishly, “Can you tell me your name?”

 

“Shane-”

 

'̷'̛ **-̷A͟l͘e̵x̛a͢nder̷-͠** "

 

“-Madej-”

  

Ryan frowned, “Alexander?”

 

Shane let himself fall back onto the floor, face in his hands, “Oh, for _fuck_ sakes.”

 

“Okay, well, alexander,” He continued but he looked less hopeful than he had a minute ago. “What happened to you?”

 

Shane contemplated the question for a moment and tried to force his mind to relax. He figured trying to say something like _‘I fell through the ceiling, its your buddy shane speaking, by the way’_ wouldn’t make it through. He had to stick with one or two word responses, and hope whatever channel it switched to was on his side.

 

" **fe̸ll ͡down.** "͜

 

“You fell down?” Ryan questioned, “Fell down the stairs?”

 

"͝ **f̛l̕oor͡.** "

 

Two in a row. He felt his confidence start to bubble up, even though he wasn’t able to say complete sentences. Maybe, just maybe, if he continued like this he’d eventually be able to tell Ryan the truth but it was going to take a lot of work. He pushed himself back into a sitting position and nursed the oncoming headache.

 

“You.. fell through the floor.” Ryan repeated, but gained a faraway look in his eyes. That hit too close to home. “Are you- how long have you been here?”

 

" **l͢o̸n͏g͞ ͜eno̢u͜gḩ.** "

****

To his surprise, Ryan let out a shaky laugh, “Yeah, y-you and me both, uh..” he paused, “Are you alone? Are there any others in this place?”

 

Shane wanted to roll his eyes, “C’mon, Ryan, you can’t just ask-”

 

" **-m̴o͝re t̨h͠an o͠ne͜ q͏u͜e҉stion** "͝

****

“Oh, right, sorry about that. I suppose you guys can only reply to one at a time,” Ryan was rambling now - this was the most active the spirit box had ever been, and Shane knew that for a fact. It would have been shut off by now if it was an investigation, “Okay. Okay, let’s start with the easy one. Are you alone?”

 

“Why?” Shane mused, “Wanna know what I’m wearing?”

 

Of course the spirit box didn’t relay the message, but he couldn’t help but giggle to himself. Instead, he said;

 

"̶ **Ye͘s.** "̧

 

“Okay.” Ryan pursed his lips, but seemed a little disheartened by that reply, “Are there.. um, others, in this place?”

 

He hadn’t seen any other ghosts besides Eli, but he figured it counted as as ‘others’.

 

"̶ **Ye͘s.** "̧

 

“Were you the one trying to.. communicate with me the other day?”

 

Shane bit his tongue at the question, at a loss for what he should say. Technically yes, he was, but Ryan currently thought he was some random guy named Alexander. He knew Ryan assumed, and hoped, it had been shane. So if he said yes, that hope would be crushed unless he could find a way to explain before Ryan left.

 

"͟ **Ye̕s,҉ b͏ut-͜** "͘

 

“-my names not Alexander.” He said, then cursed silently that the spirit box left him with a cliffhanger.

 

As expected, Ryan’s expression turned disappointed. He was silent as the static blasted through the quiet room, but soon spoke up again, “..but, what?

 

“I’m shane.” He tried again, “Not Alexander. That’s only my-”

 

" **-̢mi̛d͟d͞le ͞n̴ame.͟** "

 

Ryan frowned, “What is? Alexander?”

 

"͟ **Ye̕s,҉"**

 

There was an unreadable expression blanketing Ryan’s face now as he stared blankly off into the distance. Shane restrained himself from trying to shake his shoulders and scream: _c’mon, Bergara. You’re a smart guy. You can figure this out. Use that brain of yours to put the pieces together!”_ Ryan had jumped to bigger conclusions before.

 

Shane noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, and discovered Eli standing back in the doorway, watching them again. A part of him wondered if it would have more luck with the stupid spirit box even though it couldn't speak like he could. He gestured for it to come closer so they could try it together.

 

“What the fuck?” Ryans voice cut though his thoughts; he was staring at Eli too.

 

It stopped moving.

 

“Who- what is-” he caught himself, but Shane could tell he was visibly shaken. “That's a fucking ghost.”

 

“it's not gonna hurt you,” he promised, then turned back to Eli, “c'mere slowly, he's scared of you. I need your help.”

  

It seemed to hesitate but eventually took a few steps forward much to the horror on Ryan's face, but didn't get up to run. Instead, he simply reached out to the spirit box with trembling hands and half tossed, half slid it towards the door in Eli's direction, so it stopped so stare at it. Both refused to move.

  

“If you want to say something, use that-” he stammered, visibly shaking now, “who- what's your name?”

  

That god awful static echoed throughout the room until a voice said;

 

**"El̡i̛"̡**

 

Shane pursed hip lips but he silently encouraged it to keep talking. It hadn't been a child's voice, and if he were still alive, would have dismissed it as gibberish had he not already known it's name. Ryan, on the other hand, looked like he was going to pass out any minute with two ghosts in the room.

  

“Eli?” Ryan asked, eyes locked on it. It must have been the only thing he recognized since it had appeared to him before, “Do you know my name?”

  

There was a long stretch of pure static before it managed to get the word out with a woman’s voice;

  

**"R̷̢ya̸̢̧n̴̕͘.̶"̢̛**

 

Ryan's breath hitched in his throat. He opened his mouth to respond several times but nothing came out. Instead, Eli responded again

 

**"̡͟R̶̨y͟͝an̨҉, ̸f̴̕r̕͢i̧ę҉nd̨"** It spoke in an elderly mans voice now, but far more distorted.  **"̡h̷̢̕i̷̴s ̷̢͞f̸̧r̨i͏͠e͏n̴͜d̢҉͠"̧͡**

****

Shane nodded silently. He figured if his heart were still beating, this is the part where it’d be thumping wildly with excitement.

 

 

“I'm.. whose friend?” He whispered, but Shane had a feeling he already knew the answer. “Whose ‘his’?”

 

Eli turned to look at Shane as if to show him off, but must have forgotten he wasn't visible like it was. In turn, Shane suddenly felt eyes on him as Ryan stared at the spot he was sitting, eye level with his chest. His expression was a mixture of fear, confusion and hope but he he needed to do was keep it together for a little longer.

 

It turned to look at Ryan again, a little more static dragging out before it said the one word he had desperately been trying to:

 

**"͏S̢h̡a̡̕͡ne͡.̸"̕͞**

****

Ryan inhaled sharply and flinched as if someone had just struck him but turned to meet it’s faceless gaze.

 

“Is he- is shane.. here, right now?”

 

More static. Then,

 

**"͏͏̡Y̶e̴ş̢.̡͏"̶̢**

 

Ryan opened his mouth to speak several times, but no words tumbled out. He decided to clamp it shut as tears filled his eyes, quickly trying to hide them by wiping the back of his sleeve on his face. Shane wanted to reach out again but knew it would only freak him out more -- this would be a lot to process all at once.

 

Instead of words, he suddenly shot to his feet and pressed against the wall. He was still shaking as he mumbled something incoherent like he didn’t believe it. Shane’s attention was turned to Eli who flinched away at the sudden movement, then its form started to flicker as it prepared to vanish into thin air.

 

“Eli, wait.” He pushed himself up off the floor. It was the best chance he had at successfully communicating with Ryan. “Wait-!”

 

It was gone before he even got to the doorway, but he peered out into the corridor hoping it had just run off instead of flickering out of existence. No such luck. He muttered something and lowered his head to stare at his shadow against the wall. Wait. His shadow? It was illuminated against a circle of white light.

  

“Shane?”

  

He turned around only to see Ryan holding a flashlight aimed at him, so he had to squint against the light. Then, he noticed something else. He met Ryan’s wide eyes. Met them. As in, Ryan was staring directly at him. Not through him, not chest level, not slightly off to the side. He stared at Ryan and he stared at Shane.

  

“..you can see me?” escaped as a whisper.

  

Shane knew what happened next wasn’t fair, that it always happened whenever he became overwhelmed with emotion, but he knew he should have expected it. As soon as the last word left his mouth and the shock fully registered, that same frustrating, but familiar darkness clouded his mind and pulled him under.

  

He never got to hear the reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will i ever stop ending these in cliff hangers? tune in next week to find out (also im sorry to all the boogaras, but the spirit box is absolute bs)


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a shane-centric chapter, who finally gets to have the breakdown he deserves & should have had like 7 chapters ago. angst heavy. mostly filler while i figure out what direction this thing is gonna take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know its been like two weeks but i can EXPLAIN.
> 
> How about 4k+ words for ur troubles??

* * *

 

After the tidal wave of emotions slammed into him, silence followed as he drifted in and out of existence, never able to stay conscious long enough to register what was happening before he was gone again.

 

His mind was in fragments, unable to piece together the puzzle of memories he should have. In the darkness, he was barely lucid and fought against the invisible force that tried to keep him there. Each time he returned to it, the force got stronger and he almost forgot why he was trying so hard to break out of it.

  

Nothing made sense, and that was the only thing that made sense. He couldn’t form a coherent thought as a disembodied consciousness, and when he returned to the world for the briefest moments, all those emotions and memories hit him like a truck. It overwhelmed him and plunged him back into nothing.

  

The cycle was vicious, and he wasn’t even lucid enough to comprehend there was something wrong. He never had the thought he might be dreaming, because he wasn’t allowed to think. It should have been enough to overpower him, but there was something else. A tether, some sort on anchor that rooted him to consciousness.

  

Ryan.

  

It was a name that consistently stood out like a beacon in the dark; a light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. Even when there was absolute nothingness, there was Ryan. A name, and with it, fragments of half-formed but vague memories. Not quite enough to break out from the void, but enough to keep him grounded.

 

Shane held onto the name like a lifeline, used it to stable himself when that invisible force tried to push him back under. But it wasn’t enough. No, he had something now. Something to push back even harder for, something worth going back to the other side for. He wasn’t going to be beaten down so easily.

  

He wasn’t quite sure what it meant, not really, but it was the only thing he could remember. The only name, even when in the moments he forgot his own. Ryan. _Ryan._ The more the name echoed around in his mind, the more grounded he felt. He clung to it like a lifeline and only focused on that.

  

Slowly, so very slowly, Shane started to find his bearings. He didn’t feel as if he was floating anymore, being jerked in every which direction but instead, stood on solid ground despite the lack of body to do it with. He felt calmer than before, and the insistent yet invisible force trying to keep him down wasn’t as strong anymore.

  

The name, Ryan, brought memories that the darkness had been trying so hard to repress. A voice. Familiar and warm, impossible to describe but one his scrambled mind only associated happy thoughts with. A joyful but wheezy laugh followed, and just hearing it made him want to laugh as well. Then, a face.

  

He didn’t recognizable it at first. That round face with light brown skin, short but messy black hair with the facial hair to match. Dark, oval shaped eyes and a pearly white smile. As the details became more clear, so did the memories. Years worth, and the emotions that came along with each and every one.

  

Ryan. Jesus, of course, how could he have forgotten Ryan?

  

The darkness felt thinner now while he grew more aware. He could fight this. He had to. He had to get back to Ryan.

  

Shane focused as hard as he could and forced his way back.

 

* * *

  

Most of his return from blackouts were quick, so fast he blinked and was suddenly somewhere else. He never knew how much time he lost or what even happened during those periods, but in the end, he never really questioned them. This time, however, was something different than anything he had ever experienced.

  

Shane felt as if he had just been going a hundred miles an hour, down the steepest roller coaster, and just stopped. From one hundred to zero in a second, which knocked the breath out of him so hard his whole body locked up with paralysis. He was ripped from the darkness and suddenly in a dimly lit room, frozen.

  

First came the memories. All of them hit him like a train; everything from his earliest childhood memory, to what he had went through mere moments ago. Decades worth returned all at once and made his head spin with confusion. Names, family, friends, places, interests, experiences, feelings.

  

Then, the emotions. Confusion took the lead. What was that? How could he have forgotten all those things? What was going on? He remained frozen, unable to look around as the fear crept in next. The tiny, dark room he was in didn’t help the trapped sensation or panic attack slowly growing in his throat. 

 

He stumbled back, tripped over his own legs and slammed his back into the wall. He flattened his palms against it and touched the cracked, peeling paint as reassurance he was actually there. No more darkness. No more nothingness. He was back, this was real. Shane collapsed to the hard ground and squeezed his eyes shut.

 

Shane crossed his arms over his knees, put his head on them and squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt. His heart hurt. What the fuck. What the fuck was that? He just.. just completely blinked out of existence faster than someone could snap their fingers. It could all end just like that and he’d be none the wiser.

 

He sucked in a ragged breath as he recalled the memory, the experience of whatever the fuck… _that_ , was. Was it the afterlife? Hell? Some sort of purgatory? Whatever usually happened during blackouts aside, that was something new entirely. It was cold and unforgiving, a soul-sucking emptiness that made him feel numb.

 

And for the first time, Shane felt terrified. Absolutely petrified. It was nothing like the fear that overcame him upon realizing he really was dead, that he really was a ghost. That was nothing compared to this gut-wrenching feeling; it made his chest tighten, his breathing get shallow, his mind go haywire.

  

He wondered what death would be like, but hey, so did everyone else on the planet. Religious folk thought some sort of afterlife existed, others thought nothing at all. Either of those two options would have been better than the paralysis-like experience his mind had been stuck in for _god knows how long._

  

And Ryan. Oh god, Ryan. He had been so close. They had seen each other for the first time in months, only to have it ripped away by a force he didn’t quite understand yet. He knew the strain it would have had on Ryan’s deteriorating mental state. He knew Ryan would keep coming back after that, worsening his health even more.

  

The tightness around Shane’s heart seemed to wrap its self around his throat next, breath coming out in short, sharp bursts as a sob wracked his body -- it was only then, he realized he was crying. There was no telling when it started, but there was also no stopping it. Something inside him, something fragile, finally broke.

  

He didn’t like crying. Hell, nobody did but Shane liked to think he could keep his emotions in check. It was one thing to cry from laughter, happiness, or surprise, but this? This deep ache throughout his whole body, the cold numbness, the emotional strain from his mind trying to sweep everything back under the rug?

  

It was too much.

  

So he let it happen, and when his body seemed to register he wasn’t going to force the waterworks off, the flood gates opened. The memory of his death, how he vaguely remembered Ryan scream something as he fell, Ryan’s fear-struck expression being the last thing he saw, hearing his own neck snap like a twig..

  

The way he tried to rationalize everything with logic even when the truth had already smacked him in the face, the heavy dread came with accepting he was dead.. and oh god, that hurt so much. He was dead. He was really dead, unable to eat, sleep, touch, even breathe. His heart didn’t even beat.

  

What hurt the most was knowing how bad Ryan was taking it. It wasn’t anything Shane had expected; maybe a couple weeks in mourning, a few more days telling everyone he was fine, then he’d move on. It’d be done. He a family. Other friends. People he could vibe with just as well, or better than Shane.

  

From the sound of it, most of their coworkers and Shane’s own family had already moved on. That was fine. Three months was enough. But Ryan? Seeing how heartbroken and defeated he was? That was torture. The fact he was unable to console his friend? To tell him the truth of things? That was hell on earth.

  

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. He wanted to laugh about the absolute insanity of it all, but more tears came out instead. Ghosts, probably even demons, everything he had ridiculed Ryan for being so passionate about, were real. It wasn’t fair he had to find out like this, and he’d give anything to rewind time.

 

But he couldn’t, and now he was stuck.

 

* * *

   

Shane wasn’t sure how long he sat there tucked into himself -- time really meant nothing at this point, not when he could blackout for inordinate periods. It could have been a month since that encounter with Ryan. Maybe two or three, maybe a year. He knew he should stop trying to keep track.

 

“Shane.” A soft, quiet voice said. “Shaney?”

 

His breath caught in his throat at the voice, thinking it was his mind playing a trick on him at first. He so desperately wanted to look up and see Ryan sitting there, but the voice had been too feminine, too young. It wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear, so he wanted ignore what must have been the first sign of insanity.

  

“Please stop crying, Shane.” The voice whispered.

 

It took him a minute or two, but he slowly raised his head to meet the owner of the voice. Vision still blurry with tears, he could only see a vague mess of curly brown hair, cut just below the ear, pale face and dark eyes staring right at him. He was aware this person had both hands resting on his, cold to the touch.

  

“Shaney.” was murmured again, and he was too exhausted to be annoyed by the name.

  

He blinked a couple times and brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, and the figure quickly came into focus. A girl. A young one, maybe ten or so, staring intently. Her wide, brown eyes were full of sadness and concern, pale face covered with freckles but framed by a mess of frizzy, curly locks with a red bow tangled in.

 

“Please stop crying,” She repeated, and looked like she was on the verge of tears herself. “Please.”

 

His vision became obscured with tears several more times before he finally managed to let out a shaky; “Who.. are you?”

  

She gave him a funny look, like he was already supposed to know. Maybe she thought he was joking, but after a few seconds of hesitation she said a name that surprised him.

  

“Eli, silly head.”

  

Shane stared at the young girl in front of him, completely at a loss for words. This was Eli? The shadowy, featureless figure from before? That didn’t make sense. His mind was already short-circuiting from everything he had experienced so far. He wasn’t sure how much more he’d be able to take.

  

Maybe this is what turned simple ghosts into poltergeists. Constant sensory overload and going insane from the sheer amount of unexplainable fuckery. The thought should have terrified him, but instead, he felt a strange wave of calmness wash over. He had to stay sane, for his sake. For Ryan’s sake. 

 

His chest still ached, but the tears stopped. His breathing eventually evened out and so did the shaking. When he came back to his senses, he realized Eli was still there but sitting on her knees in front of him with an expectant look. She didn’t look as sad anymore and he didn’t know why that made him feel relieved.

 

“Eli..” He murmured, “How long was I gone?”

 

She held up two fingers.

 

“Two hours? Days?”

 

She kept her hand raised which made Shane swallow a lump of fear building in his throat.

 

“Weeks?”

 

Eli nodded.

 

Two weeks. __Two weeks__. The revelation made him want to cry out in frustration but no longer had the energy. He had been MIA, drifting in and out of whatever hellscape that had been for two weeks but his only thought was to wonder how Ryan was. He was already in rough shape mentally and emotionally.

 

“Hey.. uh,” He toyed with his fingers, “Remember Ryan? Has he been here since I left?”

 

A nod, “Each day.”

 

“Each day.” He echoed

 

Shane wanted to go look for Ryan, optimistic that maybe, just maybe he’d be visible again. Ryan knew he was here now -- maybe he’d brush it off as a hallucination, but that didn’t sound like him. He already had all the facts he needed, as if the encounter with Eli wasn’t enough proof. Even Shane would have been turned into a believer.

 

He was worried. After everything Ryan had told him about the months following his death, after seeing how broken he was, that this may have finally pushed the other over the edge. Two weeks without hearing a peep from Shane after days of ghostly activity would drive him up the fucking wall. He’d be desperate.

 

“Can we go look for mother?” Eli suddenly questioned.

 

“Huh?”

 

She smiled, “Remember? Mother said she’d be back soon. Said we’d get medicine here.”

 

Shane opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. Whatever he was about to ask died on his tongue at the strange request

 

“Please?”

 

“Uh, okay.” He agreed, and frowned slightly when she beamed at him and pulled on his arm. “Sure. What about Ryan?”

 

“Mother will be back soon.” She repeated.

 

Shane pushed to his feet with her help and glanced around the room that was far different than any he had been in so far. It was no bigger than the average bedroom, with plain white walls and a wooden floor, no windows or wall decorations and a ceiling lamp. There was a bunk bed tucked into the corner, but nothing else.

 

He pulled open the barred cell door which had a padlock from the outside, but followed Eli out into the hallway. It was only a few meters wide and tall, nothing like the high-arching ceilings he was used to in the main building. There were more rooms too, dozens on either side with the same cell door and evenly spaced out.

  

Each room had a metal plaque on the exterior wall with a string of numbers on it. Patient 00566 & Patient 00567. Patient 00583 & Patient 00584. No names. The patients here weren’t people, only a series of numbers. He scrunched his nose up in disgust -- what Ryan had found hadn’t even scratched the surface.

  

Most of the rooms had two sets of bunk beds crammed into them while others were so generously given a dresser or a couple boxes. It didn’t look like these people were allowed any possessions besides the clothes on their backs. Even prisoners were allowed photos, books, or even sentimental items for gods sakes.

  

Eli hadn’t stopped to look in any of the rooms. In fact, she was nearly running down the hall but constantly looked over her shoulder to see if he was still following. When she passed an elevator, she practically threw herself against the opposite wall and pressed into it as she passed by. Shane frowned but approached it. 

 

The rusted, thick elevator doors were already pried open, but instead of seeing the inside of the car, he saw nothing but darkness and the complex machinery that would have operated it. Shane peered both upwards and down but the car was nowhere in sight. Huh. He wondered what would have made Eli so-

 

“No!” She shouted and suddenly yanked him away from the opening, “No. Bad.”

 

He frowned, “Why?”

 

“Bad.” She repeated and tried to tug him farther away, “You fall.”

 

Shane looked at her, then at the elevator. “Did you? Is that how you died?”

 

Eli’s face went blank. Okay. Yeah. _Good one Shane._

 

He cleared his throat, “Uh.. what's the last thing you remembered before..” He paused, “..you found me?”

 

She stared at him intently, and maybe the question was too complex for a century old ghost that didn't even know it was dead.

 

“Did you.. fall down?”

 

A beat of silence, then; “Push.”

 

“Someone.. pushed you?”

 

The nod only made his stomach twist into knots - who pushed a ten year old down an elevator? What kind of monsters ran this place?

 

“Come.” She tugged his arm, “Mother will be back soon.”

 

Eli was starting to sound like a broken record, and he almost preferred it when she couldn’t speak. In fact, he had absolutely no idea why he was suddenly able to see, hear and interact with her. Maybe something triggered it but he didn’t have the slightest idea what, and there was a pretty good chance she wouldn’t know either.

 

He didn’t want to wait around for a mother that wouldn’t come back for her. He wanted to go look for Ryan, but this was an entirely new building and there was no telling how far away from the entrance it was. Until he learned how to ghost properly, Eli was his only reliable navigator. And right now, that didn’t sit well.

 

Still, Shane tried to keep his frustration under control. From what he gathered, It seemed intense, sudden waves of emotion triggered those blackouts and he wasn’t keen on having another. He couldn’t lose his temper. He had to stay neutral, and he wasn’t sure that would be possible if he and Ryan saw each other again. 

 

He cleared his mind as the two took a sharp right at a crossroads, each hallway a mirror image of the one they just left. Unlike the last one, this one lead to a dead-end but Eli guided them towards the last room on the left. Shane took a moment to peer out the wide, rectangular window but was only greeted with an endless forest.

 

“We wait.” Eli said, voice softer than before, “Mother will be back soon.”

 

Just like every room before it, there was a bunk bed with a flat pillow and a thin white sheet on each. Eli moved to sit on the bottom bunk, hands in her lap but smiled up at him expectantly. Uncertainty took over as he wondered what his next move should be, but his feet moved before his brain which guided him to the bed.

 

It was barely a foot off the ground, so he lowered himself down to the awkward angle and stretched one leg out and tried to find a comfortable position for the other. The top of his head brushed the underside of the bunk above, so he was careful not to make any sudden moves. Shane pressed his palms into the thin mattress, and waited.

 

Beside him, Eli hummed quietly and swung her legs back and forth but didn’t seem at all on edge like he was. There was no telling how long she was willing to wait for her mom and he wondered if this is where she came each time she vanished. Maybe she got thrown into that same swirling dark abyss.

 

The silence dragged on and he fully understood why most ghosts were described as lost, wandering souls. This was maddening. If he didn’t have things to keep him grounded, he shuddered to think this was the fate that would have awaited him. A slow, infuriating decent into insanity, never knowing what became of Ryan.

 

Shane shifted and his hand slid underneath the pillow; he blinked in surprise when his fingertips touched something cold. He glanced downwards as he pulled out a small object -- a silver, square locket with a broken latch. It flipped open as soon as he picked it up, but had to squint to see its contents.

 

There was a faded picture inside, black and white but slightly grainy. There were two figures in frame and Shane recognized one of them immediately. A young girl in smiled at the camera while she hugged the much taller figure beside her. It was Eli, though much more vibrant looking and slightly younger.

 

Next to Eli, a man with at least two feet of height over her. He was lanky, and the white, wrinkled dress shirt hung right off him. Short, shaggy brown hair with the start of a scruffy beard across his jaw. He wasn't smiling as brightly as Eli, but Shane could still notice the dimples and wrinkles around his eyes.

 

There was something about his eyes though, something familiar. Sure, he had tired bags under them but they were shaped almost like semi-circles with a slight tilt to them, which made him look sad despite the smile. Shane glanced over at Eli who, in turn, gave him a smile just like the one in the photo.

  

The man in the photo looked too young to be a father, so he gestured to the locket,

  

“Is this.. your brother?”

  

She gave him a strange look as if that was a dumb question, “You're funny, Shaney.”

  

Something clicked in his mind. It's why Eli, from the start, seemed so interested in him. Why she only seemed to trust him and not Ryan, why she seemed so attached to him. Shane glanced down at the photo again. He could see the resemblance, except the man had a smaller nose and his jaw was more square than his own.

  

“Mother will be back soon,” She promised.

  

Shane wasn't exactly sure what the correct response was for when a ghost thought you were her dead brother, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he wondered what kind of mother left her children in a place like this. He had no idea how long Eli and her brother had been here, but it was clear their mother never came back for them.

  

Eli must have died before her brother, and never knew what happened to him. She probably didn't even know how long it had been but it was clear she didn't know the two of them were dead. Enter Shane, a good enough look alike suddenly trapped in here as well. He really didn't know how, or if he should, break the news.

  

“I need to find Ryan.” He mumbled.

  

Eli’s smile faded, “Mother will-”

  

“-be back soon.” He nodded, “I know, but..” A pause. Why was he trying so hard not to hurt her feelings? Its not like she could stop him from leaving or would get violent if he tried. “..I want to see if Ryan is okay. He’s, um, sad.”

  

She didn’t say anything.

  

“Mom will be a little longer.” He explained, voice soft as he reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “I wanna go see Ryan, okay? Will you help me?”

  

Eli glanced up at him, eyes sparkling. “Okay, Shaney.”

  

He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things;
> 
> 1\. No, shes not gonna be some ghost ex machina 
> 
> 2\. no more angsty cliff hangers. the angst is going to be very minimal from now on. ur boys are gonna see each other again next chapter.
> 
> 3\. I couldn't for the life of me find a BFU discord that was actually active, so i made one myself if yall wanna join?? https://discord.gg/9tfrqTW
> 
> Thank you for all the supportive comments and enthusiasm about this work!!


	11. XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the moment you've all been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god theres SO much i wanted to write about This Specific Part..... so i split it into two parts..... here we go

* * *

 

Shane really started to hate mazes.

 

He hadn’t before, but attempt after attempt of entering one dead end after another had him on the brink of ripping his hair out. The Asylum’s corridors seemed like one long, infuriating maze that taunted him at every turn. Each room he entered had no secondary door, and the windows offered to clue to his whereabouts.

 

He thought maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to use his ghost state as an advantage for once. He tried to walk through locked doors or random walls, but found he could only do it so many times before a throbbing headache took over. It felt like moving through jello when moving through a solid object. He didn’t question it.

 

The stairs were nearly impossible to find. No signs, arrows or change in architecture to indicate where they might be, so he wandered the halls until sunlight had completely faded. The elevator was a no-go for multiple reasons. Shane considered jumping down. What was the worst that could happen? He’d die again?

 

Eli didn’t allow him to get close enough to really consider that option; she’d simply push him toward the wall whenever they passed an elevator even when its doors were closed. Besides that, she wasn’t much help. She followed rather than lead, had no sense of direction and barely spoke.

  

Eventually, he stumbled across a set of stairs that were within a caged-in portion of the wall. The rusted, metal door was padlocked shut from the other side but that wasn’t going to stop him. Shane gritted his teeth, walked right though it, and tried to ignore the pressure in his head as his vision went blurry for a moment.

  

He shook it off and descended the stairs all the way to the first floor, but that was only the first of many problems solved. Next, he had to find out where in gods name he was. He had went over the blueprints to this place with Ryan a hundred times, but Ryan had only seemed interested in the underground tunnels and main floor.

  

Besides, he didn’t remember them at all. In typical Shane fashion, he only nodded along with mock interest; _‘oh wow, ryan, this place has gotta be super haunted.’_ and _‘The boogaras are gonna be shaking in their boots this episode, ryan.’_. Of course, he dismissed all the demon theories straight away.

  

In hindsight, Shane still knew his beliefs had been valid. He didn’t believe in ghosts because he hadn’t been presented with real, solid evidence. That was fair. And looking back on it, most of Ryan’s proof didn’t seem legitimate. It had never been enough to convince him anything otherworldly existed.

  

Now, here he was. A ghost. That didn’t mean he had to believe in demons, though. Those were definitely not real. Zero percent. Goatman? Fuck that. Sallie? Doubtful, but much more believable than some half-goat, half-man that owned an entire bridge. Even as a ghost, he still had a brand to maintain.

 

There were a couple times Shane was sure he blinked out of existence, but he always appeared back in the same spot so it couldn’t have been for long. He had always wondered if he would ever be able to control the time skips, like opening up a play/fast-forward menu in his brain. Oh, now convenient that would be.

  

In one instance, he thought about the corridor where he woke up and ended up there the next time his eyes opened. That had been the only occurrence of things working out in his favour, because when he imagined himself outside, nothing happened. He didn’t feel too bad -- this was exactly where he wanted to be.

  

Even if his plan was to sit and wait.

  

Waiting seemed to be the only thing Shane could do. So that’s what he did. He sat down on the floor, next to that same pile of debris with his legs pulled into his chest and his arms crossed on top of them. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but hey, at least his legs couldn’t fall asleep, right? Finally, a win.

  

He stared at the floor. The wall. The ceiling. The strip of moonlight that poked through a window in another room. The cobwebs. All things he had seen before. All things he had gotten tired of. So instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled loudly and forced his racing mind to calm down. He just had to wait. 

 

_Good things come to those who wait,_  popped into his mind. It was something his mom used to always say. Hell, he was sure every kids’ mom told them that at one point or another. Where the quote even came from, he had no idea but could only hope _good things_ would take notice of how goddamn patient he’d been.

 

_If this keeps up, you’re gonna go grey from stress, Madej._

  

The thought crossed his mind, but the sudden realization that he’d never be able to grow old was such a depressing notion that he decided to not think about it at all. He thought maybe he could find a little humor in keeping his youthful looks for all ghost-eternity, but his brain couldn’t find a joke to make.

 

So he pushed it aside and waited.

 

And waited.

 

It took a while for Shane to realize that Eli wasn’t with him anymore, but he didn’t really feel one way or the other about it. There was no telling when she vanished, although he could bet it was when he -- what was the proper word for it? Teleported? -- __reappeared__  somewhere else. She’d find him again, though.

 

If she was scared of Ryan, he supposed she had a right to be. She was a child ghost from the 18th or 19th century, and probably hadn’t seen another person aside from Shane in a long time. She thought she knew who Shane was, but only knew Ryan as a complete stranger despite reassurance he was a friend.

 

He sighed.

 

And soon enough, after endless waiting and thoughts of the devil himself, luck appeared to be on his side.

 

Ryan came into view, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets while a hood concealed most of his face. He stared at the ground as he walked in his hesitant, slow __‘_ Fuck me, I really don’t want to be here.’ _pace. Of course, he didn’t notice Shane, and Shane didn’t get up. He wondered if a little more waiting would do the trick.

 

“Here I am again.” Ryan’s voice sounded bitter -- which definitely wasn’t the tone he expected -- and didn’t look up. “Eleventh day in a row.”

 

Shane looked back down at his hands.

 

“It’s crazy, right? _I’m_ crazy?” He forced a laugh, “It’s been a little over two weeks since I saw-- since that hallucination. Right? See, I admitted it.” Another half-wheezy laugh that sounded borderline delirious, “It was just a hallucination. You were wearing the same thing you were when you died.”

 

Ryan stood in the middle of the hallway motionless for several long moments before he raked his fingers through his hair with an exasperated sigh. His demeanor suddenly changed.

 

“Shane,” He mumbled, “big guy, please. I know what I saw. I know maybe, you haven’t figured out how to do this ghost stuff yet, and I know there's no, like.. instruction manual for this shit, but-” He caught himself and squeezed his eyes shut, “-whatever you did last time to make yourself visible to me, just try to do it again.”

 

Shane pursed his lips. He wished it were that easy.

 

“There’s been no sign of you since that night, and I’ve been back here every day for the past two and a half weeks.” Ryan continued and maneuvered around the debris pile. “So this is my last try. I might as well accept that it was just my sleep-deprived imagination, because you would have contacted me again. Like before.”

 

Shane swallowed roughly. He couldn’t even begin to imagine all the stress his friend was going through right now.

 

“Why am I still doing this?” He muttered then lowered his arms to shove his hands in his pockets. “Why can’t I just move on like a normal human being?”

 

Shane toyed with his fingers, “Cause you’re an idiot, Bergara.”

 

Truth be told, Shane wanted to ask the same thing? Why couldn’t Ryan just move on? Why did he have to be so obsessed with the idea Shane was a ghost? Why did he have to be right? Shane would willingly spend eternity here alone (or with Eli) if it meant Ryan could get his life back together and just.. move on.

 

His thoughts were interrupted when the sound of… _nothing,_ caught his attention. Ryan had been pacing, mumbling incoherently, and dragging his feet across the floorboards but came to an abrupt halt after Shane spoke. He glanced upward but wasn’t prepared to see Ryan facing him, already staring back down at him.

 

When their eyes met, Ryan’s went wide. He inhaled sharply, “… _Shane?”_

 

Oh, that was just cruel.

  

“Hey, Ry.” He smiled weakly, knowing it wouldn’t matter what he said. He’d probably vanish in two seconds, “Looks like you were right about ghosts, huh?”

  

Ryan looked dumbfounded, staring at him open mouthed but either didn’t, or couldn’t move. They kept each other's gaze, and Shane slowly realized that he hadn't disappeared yet. No blackouts. He was still there. _He was still there._ And by this point, he knew his expression must have been an exact mirror of Ryan’s.

 

Even though he felt several different kinds of emotion bubbling to the surface, he knew he had to keep calm. He had to keep his emotions in check, but it was so hard when he knew this was the part when his heart should have been beating wildly; he was excited, happy, confused, scared and shocked all at once.

 

“Shane.” Ryan said again, already on his knees next to him. It was less of a question this time. He wanted conformation.

 

Speechless, Shane could only nod.

 

The pair only broke eye contact for a moment when Ryan swallowed nervously, slowly reached out with a trembling hand, and hovered over Shane’s shoulder. Shane felt the warm touch even though his fingertips phased right through him and touched the wall behind him. Ryan looked like he was on the verge of passing out.

 

“Are you-?”

 

“Realer than bigfoot, baby.”

 

Under different circumstances, he knew that would have earned a half-smile or even a pity laugh, but Ryan just stared at him with dawning realization written all over his face. And also under different circumstances, Shane was sure he’d be able to crack a few more jokes but this wasn’t a mood he could lighten.

 

“You can’t be.” He mumbled, then withdrew his hand like something had shocked it. “Shane would never admit ghosts were real -- you’re just a hallucination."

 

“Go get my phone, and I’ll read you the last chapter of the Hot Daga I was working on.” Shane said, not knowing what else would convince him this was very real, “Your subconscious wouldn’t dare hallucinate that.”

 

There was a beat of silence as Ryan opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it. He was visibly struggling to find the right words to say, but what was the right response to this? He stared at Shane, eyes already glassed over as tears threatened to spill but wiped them on the back of his jacket sleeve.

 

“..I don’t believe it.”

 

That same, dull ache settled in his chest again. “I know, Ryan. Me either.”

 

“...it’s really you.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“...you’re a ghost...”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Irony was a bitch, but neither of them laughed. Instead, Ryan moved closer and eyed him over, but chewed on his bottom lip like he was nervous. Maybe he was. Shane sure was. Nervous that he’d blink out of existence at any moment and only worsen Ryan’s theory that he was in fact, just a hallucination.

 

“..how long have you been-?” Ryan started, but then trailed off as he decided to chose his next words carefully. “..like this?”

 

He thought back to those kids and how it was the only period he had any real grasp on time, but who knows how long it had been since then.

 

“Some time in September.” He couldn’t recall the exact date, only that three months had passed, “When I woke up a ghostie.”

 

“September.” Ryan repeated, “So you weren’t, like-” He paused, “-around for long?”

 

“I’d say the same week you started coming here?” A shrug, “Time really means nothing to me like this.”

 

Suddenly, Ryan’s eyes zoned out. “So.. when I left.. and I thought I heard you shout my name-?”

 

“...yeah. And all those times you thought you heard me and thought you were going crazy. I tried so hard to get through to you.”

 

Silence took up the corridor once more but both were staring at the floor while Shane fiddled distractedly with his hands. He didn’t know what else to say, or how to even bring up the dozens of delicate subjects he wanted to talk about. He wanted to speak, though. Every moment was precious. He could vanish at any second.

 

Still, after what seemed like an eternity, Shane glanced up and noticed Ryan staring at him. Their eyes met, and he stared back just as intently, glad Ryan could finally __see__  him as apposed to those times he’d look through Shane or in his general area. _That_ had been frustrating. Being so close, yet so far away.

 

“Jesus, Shane..” He mumbled while even more sadness filled his half-lidded eyes. No, that was the complete opposite of what Shane wanted to see, “I’m so sorry. If I had known..”

 

“You couldn’t have.” Shane shrugged again but didn’t feel as nonchalant as the action suggested, “Don’t worry.”

  

More silence, then;

 

“I wanna hug you so goddamn bad.” The last word was broken by a voice crack, then Ryan wiped some tears away again. “Fuck you, Madej.”

  

When Shane’s vision became slightly blurry, he blinked any oncoming tears away before the other could notice. Instead, he forced a smile.

  

“Yeah, me too.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took a little longer for the two of them to become adjusted to the current situation, but it was obvious neither really believed it was actually happening. Every so often, Ryan reached out to touch him but the sadness in his eyes became more visible when his hand would go right through. Maybe he was just checking.

  

It took every ounce of Shane’s willpower to not do the same; he wanted to put a reassuring hand on Ryan’s shoulder, wanted to ruffle his hair and joke about how it looked like a birds nest, wanted to sit next to his friend and wrap a conforming arm around his shoulder but knew it would only make things more depressing.

 

“Shane?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You were around the whole time?” Ryan questioned. They were still sitting next to each other, but Ryan was turned to face him. “You were here each time I came back?”

 

Shane pursed his lips, then said: “Not every time, I don’t think. But most times. Remember the stress ball?”

 

“Bastard, that scared the shit out of me.”

 

Shane laughed, and Ryan soon burst into a fit of giggles as well. Good. That felt good, and the smiles lingered on their faces for a few more moments before Shane glanced away.

 

“I should have known it was you, as soon as that shoulder tap agreed I was an idiot.” Ryan continued, and Shane snorted. “I mean, deep down I always thought it was. But what were the odds..”

 

“Sorry,” Shane said, “I keep having these, I dunno, blackouts? I disappear at the worst times.”

 

That seemed to peak Ryan’s curiosity, “You disappear? Like, poof, just like that?”

 

A shrug, “It happens when I get overwhelmed. Lots of emotions, y’know? I just phase out and appear somewhere else in the blink of an eye. It’s what happened the last time you saw me.”

 

“That’s.. amazing.”

 

_“Amazing?”_

  

“Well, uh, no, all I mean is-” He suddenly looked embarrassed, “Not amazing for you, really, but it explains so much, Shane. It explains why haunted places are so active for some people and completely dead when others show up.”

 

Shane thought about that for a moment, “Cause all the ghosts were taking naps? They must be real tired in every place we go.”

 

That earned him an incredulous look, “Don’t use your skeptic voice on me, dickhead. You’re a __ghost__.”

 

“Ghosts are real,” He agreed, “but demons still aren’t.”

 

“Are you kidding me right now?”

 

Shane let out another laugh; he put one hand on his chest and the other on the ground to stable himself when the sudden movement nearly knocked him over. The warmth that spread through his chest made him momentarily wonder when the last time he had felt this happy was, and could only guess it was with Ryan too.

 

As he came down from the laughing fit, he couldn’t stop grinning even as he turned back to look at Ryan, who wore his own warm smile.

 

And for the first time since waking up, Shane knew everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the boys have A LOT to talk about. buckle up.


	12. XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy October. It's the spookiest month, so take more Ghoulbois content from your friendly, neighborhood cryptid. (as a shaniac, I don't believe in halloween) Hopefully I'll be more consistent with uploads this month. A guy can hope.

* * *

 

The two sat in comfortable silence for a little more than an hour -- Ryan only pulled out his phone twice to check the time or for messages, but boy if that wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. It was 2:23am, Wednesday, October 30th, and Shane had never been more relieved to see a clock in his life. He felt strangely grounded.

 

Even though it was nearly November. Nearly five months since he died, and almost two since waking up as a ghost. Any other time, he figured a jarring realization like that would have sent him spiraling back into that abyss, but not today. Ryan kept him anchored to the spot and that cord refused to break even an inch.

 

The corridor was dark except for the patch of moonlight that streamed in though the shattered, half-boarded up window from the room directly across from them. Any other time he would have found this slightly unnerving (because of potential crackheads with heroin needles lurking in the shadows) but not today.

 

Shane, still sitting cross legged with his elbows on his knees, stared intently at Ryan, who was resting with his bent legs sprawled out next to him, left shoulder pressed against the wall so his body faced Shane. The way he was positioned left barely any space between the two, but Shane didn’t complain about the closeness.

 

He was focused on Ryan’s face; when he arrived, it was an anxious, sleep-deprived, upset mess. Now, although still sleep-deprived with heavy bags under his eyes, he looked calm. He looked somewhat hopeful and more at peace than he did walking in. With all the questions he had, that was a good a place as any to start.

 

“Hey, uh, Ryan?” 

 

“Yeah?”

  

“When was the last time you got a good nights sleep?”

  

Ryan paused and looked taken aback by the random question, but then smiled sheepishly, “Um.. give or take a few months? Four, maybe.”

  

“Maybe you should go?” Shane suggested, even though he didn’t mean it, “Take a nap. An eighteen hour one.”

  

Ryan’s eyes went wide, “What? No! I just found out that my best friend is a ghost, that we can finally talk to each other-”

  

“I’m not going anywhere,” Shane reminded him, then cringed. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter.

  

“I don’t care.” He was suddenly defensive. “I’m not leaving you alone again.”

 

Shane tried to think of a way to argue that, but came up empty. _Good. You don’t want him to leave anyways, Madej. Don’t try to make him._ He wasn’t going to. Instead of arguing, he relaxed his shoulders and let out a heavy sigh that belonged to a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Maybe that was true.

  

“Okay.” He said simply, after a moment of hesitation. “But I think we should address the elephant in the room.”

  

That earned a frown, “What elephant?”

  

Shane took a deep breath as the other looked up to meet his eyes, and knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. There was no way around it, though. “When you were here, you always talked to me. Some of the stuff you said..”

 

That earned a surprised look, which quickly dissolved into mild-panic as Ryan swallowed audibly, “Oh. You um, heard.. -- what did you hear?”

  

 “Enough.”

  

When Ryan didn’t respond, the ‘ding!’ in Shane’s mind tipped him off right away that he knew both their minds immediately flew to the most obvious thing. He took that as his chance to finally speak up on a matter that had been bothering him since Ryan’s first visit. He had to get it completely out of his system.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Ryan.”

 

He immediately tried to protest, but Shane held up his hand to continue.

 

“No, just, for once in your life, don’t argue with me. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I was stupid, I didn’t listen to you and got myself killed. I don’t care that you picked the place, I don’t care that you suggested we explore it beforehand. You’ve gotta stop blaming yourself, because none of this is on you.”

 

Ryan’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t respond. Not for a while, anyway. He didn’t look up to meet Shane’s eyes, so Shane just stared at him; it was clear Ryan didn’t believe him which wasn’t surprising. He’d been drowning himself in misplaced guilt and Shane wasn’t sure how much of that damage was fixable.

 

“The days I was conscious sometimes made me wish I wasn’t.” Shane continued. He had a lot to say, “Jesus, Ryan, looking at you was-- and still is-- heartbreaking. Hearing everything you told me hurt even more, but being right beside you the whole time while you couldn’t see me? That’s- I’m so sorry.” 

 

That caught his attention. “Why?”

 

“I dunno.” He shrugged miserably, “For dying, I guess?”

  

“Shane-”

  

“I’m sorry that you cared about me so much,” Shane continued as if he hadn’t spoken, but glanced down to the floor. “I had no idea.”

  

“You.. you’re sorry th-?” Ryan seemed to catch himself, but his next words sounded genuinely upset, “Shane, you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you. I mean, yeah, I pretended to act like a dick when the cameras were rolling, but you knew that was just a joke, right?”

  

That’s not what he had been getting at, and he had a feeling they both knew it. So he decided the ignore that last bit.

  

“I’m sorry,” Shane repeated, “that you had to get a therapist because of me, that you had to keep coming back here, how broken up all this made you, how you tried to-” He cut himself off, but it was clear from the expression on Ryan’s face that he knew the ending to that sentence. “-I’m sorry you care _that_ much.”

  

Silence.

  

“I was at a low point.” He mumbled, “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  

“Sorry.”

  

“I’m sorry, too.”

  

Heavy silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shattered on the ground. It was tense but not quite uncomfortable or awkward, yet it covered them like a thick blanket. Unlike the silence he experienced in Eli’s room, this didn’t share that dragging feeling of loneliness.

  

It wasn’t all Shane wanted to talk about, not by a long shot, but it had be a good place to start. Even if he didn’t believe it -- and Shane could tell he didn’t -- he had reassurance. Shane could only hope his word would be enough to ease the guilt Ryan had put on his shoulders for one too many months now. It had to be.

  

And it was all true. Shane really had _no_ idea that Ryan cared about him that much, and everything he’d heard over the last few weeks came as a complete shock. Yeah, he knew the annoyed, _‘im gonna kill you if you say another word, madej’_ facade Ryan put on for the cameras was just that, but this was different.

  

“So,” Shane decided to speak first. He cleared his throat, and in an attempt to lighten the depressing mood, cracked a smile. “Ol’ Ryan Bergara likes the Hot Daga, huh?”

  

Ryan looked more petrified than before, “Wh-what?”

  

“I told you I heard every word.” The smile turned into a grin as he watched Ryan’s eyes get wide, “Especially the good parts.”

 

“Well, you- you-” He sputtered out something akin to death threats, but added more coherently, “-then you heard the part where I said it wasn’t admissible in court. You have no proof, dickhead.”

  

Shane tapped a finger to his temple, “I know you said it, and that’s good enough.”

  

Ryan shook his head and there was a faint smile on his lips for just a moment until it vanished just as fast. “Look, uh, I know you’re trying to lighten the mood, like you always do, but.. there is something I wanted to talk to you about, too.”

  

“You’re breaking up with me?” Shane gasped playfully in an attempt to ignore the tightness in his chest at the sudden tone shift, “You can’t. I’m pregnant with Shane Jr.”

  

Whatever Ryan had been about to say was replaced with; “I would _not_ name our kid Shane Jr. That’s child abuse.”

  

“Yeah?” He smiled, “You given a lot of thought into what you’d name __our__ kid, Bergara?”

  

Ryan quickly glanced away, “Shut up, Shane.”

  

The jokes were nice, the same light-hearted banter he had grown used to was nice too, and even though he’d rather they just sit here and pester each other like old times, there were more pressing things to do. To talk about. It was unavoidable, and he never liked heart-to-hearts or been very good at them.

  

Especially with Ryan. He liked to think their relationship could only be described with one word: goofy. He was the eccentric one who always had a witty comeback, and Ryan, whose patience for Shane’s shenanigans would waver depending on the day, was far more pragmatic and responsible.

  

He liked to keep it that way. Outside of work, drinking at bars, they’d spend the whole night trying to find ways to make each other laugh. He had never been sure how to let himself be vulnerable without downing three or four drinks first. He was the fun and charming one, not the one who dragged the mood down with his problems.

 

He supposed it was why he found this all so hard. He had never been this heart-achingly sad around Ryan before, and hell, he didn’t even think they’d seen each other cry before. The only thing that came close was when he’d comfort a genuinely terrified Ryan during one of their investigations, but that seemed like nothing.

 

“-shane?” Ryan had interrupted his depressing thoughts, and he couldn’t be more thankful for it. “You in there, big guy? You’re not gonna vanish on me again, right?”

 

He blinked a couple times, then looked up. “I’m honestly surprised I haven’t, yet. Intense emotions, and all.”

 

“I’m glad you haven’t.” A pause. “What were you thinking about?”

 

“How different things are. I wish we could go back to the way things were.”

 

Ryan nodded once, “Yeah. I thought about that too. I may have you back, but it’s not like we can.. y’know, go to bars, get drunk, film dumb stuff at work.. friend stuff.”

 

“Being ghost-blocked is even worse than being cock-blocked,” Shane tried another attempt at humor but he didn’t get a laugh.

 

Instead, Ryan took that as an opportunity to jump on what he must have wanted to talk about earlier.

 

“About that, uh.. what does it feel like? Y’know, being a ghost?” 

 

Shane gave him a half-smile, “Well, considering I don’t have to pay taxes anymore? Great. I shoulda died a long time ago.”

 

The reflexive jokes were usually Shane’s defense against topics or conversations he didn’t want to get into, but the doubtful expression on Ryan’s face made it clear it wasn’t something he was going to drop. He couldn’t charm or humor his way out of every bad situation, despite how hard he often tried to.

  

“You know what I mean, Shane.”

  

He did. Again, he deflected.

  

“Well, I feel lighter.” He shrugged, but still decided to skirt around what Ryan was actually asking. “But, ol’ shanemister can’t float if that’s what you’re wondering.” He snapped his fingers, “I can walk through walls, though, but it hurts like a bitch if done too much. Don’t ask why. I can’t explain half the things I’ve experienced.”

 

Ryan’s unbelieving stare burned a hole right though him, and Shane caved.

 

“Okay.” Shane’s shoulders sagged, “Okay, you caught me. It sucks, Ryan. We’ve joked about the ‘what ifs’ before, but this..” He paused for several seconds and anxiously toyed with his fingers. Ryan wasn’t going to interrupt him. “Alright, yeah, I’ll admit it. I’ve never been more scared in my fucking life.”

  

“Shane..” 

 

He swallowed roughly, “When I first realized what had happened, I was so- I thought I was being punished. I wasn’t a saint, but I didn’t think I deserved-” He gestured to himself, “- _this._ I was so scared, I had no idea what was going on or how to control _what_ happened to me. And the first time I blacked out..?”

  

When Ryan didn’t speak, he continued.

  

“It wasn’t just that, but.. having my entire belief system shattered with no solid ground to back up on? It was.. too much to process in such a short time. I felt lost, especially when you started showing up. You were.. so close, yet so far. I couldn’t talk or interact with you, and everything I tried just scared you off.”

  

“So yeah, I got scared. And the more scared I got, the more blackouts I would have with no idea how much time had passed. I was stressed, confused, worried, and I only wanted to find you. I knew you were the only person on earth who would be able to figure out what was happening. It took you a while, but..”

  

Ryan responded by pursing his lips. He slowly reached out and hovered a hand over Shane’s, which was resting on his own knee, then brushed his fingertips over his knuckles. Shane shivered at the touch, then glanced up to meet Ryan’s tired gaze. His lips twitched in a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  

“I’m here now.” Ryan murmured, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that alone. If it were me, I’d have lost my goddamn shit and probably be a poltergeist by now.”

 

“If it weren’t for you or Eli, I probably would have too.”

 

“Whose Eli?”

 

It had been so casual, Shane didn’t even realize he had mentioned the name but quickly remembered he hadn’t told Ryan everything.

 

“The, uh, little shadow figure? Y’know, the one who talked to you with the spirit box?”

 

“Oh.” He blinked, “Is it- ah, right. Fuck, I repressed that memory so hard. Was it the same one that kept following me when you weren't here?”

 

“Probably, I haven’t seen any other ghosts.” Shane scratched his scruffy jaw, “This place isn’t as haunted as you thought it was.” 

 

“I’ll be upset about that later. I’m still reeling over the fact you’re admitting the spirit box actually works. That it’s actual evidence.”

  

“I don’t want to hear any ‘I told you so’s’ from you, Bergara.”

  

“That’s not what I--” He shook his head, and for a very brief moment, his hand became solid enough for Ryan’s warm hand to properly rest on. “--look, I’m not gonna rub any of this in your face, Shane. I promise. It’s too fucked up for any of that.”

  

Shane peered down at their hands, unable to reply to the sentiment. He was too taken aback by the realization the two were actually touching, that he couldfeel Ryan’s _skin_ rather than just the usual warmth, he could feel the pressure of the hand that was half-way wrapped around his, and then he looked back up.

 

“What?” Ryan asked.

 

“You’re touching me.”

 

As soon as attention was drawn to it, the effect faded and Ryan’s hand went right through it again.

 

“Whoa.”

 

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “Just like that time you kicked the ball at me. I was solid..”

 

Ryan shuddered, “That freaked me the fuck out, dude. The ball just stopped in mid-air.”

 

Shane pursed his lips for a moment before he pulled his hand away and studied it curiously. Sometimes he was visible. Sometimes he was solid. He never got to pick when, and was constantly at the mercy of whatever supernatural force was at work. It only seemed to happen when he wasn’t thinking about it.

 

Which was frustrating. As soon as he became aware of it -- rolling the ball back to Eli, picking up that locket, touching Ryan just now -- the connection was severed. The only outlier seemed to be the fact he was visible right now despite acknowledging it several times over. He frowned. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to make sense.

 

Not only did it not make sense, it wasn’t fair either. He raked his fingers through his hair and grumbled something incoherent. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He didn’t know he could miss a sense so much. All those friendly pats on the backs, the playful nudges, and times they touched without even thinking twice about it.

 

Shane shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. It didn’t go through. Of course it didn’t. But the second he realized how frustrated the entire situation made him, he felt that familiar, yet unwelcome tug in the back of his mind. He stiffened as the sensation crept into his mind, too late to push it all back now. 

 

“Ryan, I’m- it’s gonna happen again.” 

 

“What is?”

  

And suddenly he was gone.

 

* * *

  

The darkness’ grip on Shane had slackened a considerable amount since the last time he was stuck in the void, and he used that to his advantage. He was more conscious than ever, all his memories and feelings intact so he remembered what he had to do as soon as the corridor dissolved around him.

 

He remembered his anchor, his reason for going back to the other side, and unlike before, didn’t have to struggle to remember what -- or rather _who _\--__ that reason was. Ryan. Every single memory associated with him was clear as day, and no amount of dark, supernatural bullshit was going to take those away again. 

 

He wanted to be annoyed he let his emotions get the best of him again, but knew he couldn’t dwell on it. He had to get back to Ryan before too much time had passed, even though it could have already been a day or another week. But this time, he felt confident and far more grounded than he had ever been. So he focused.

 

It only took a second.

 

And when he came to, he was right where he left. Sitting in the darkness on the floor, back against the wall in that same corridor. He as draped in that same patch of moonlight shining through a shattered window from a room across the hall. Everything was the same except for one tiny detail: Ryan wasn’t next to him anymore.

 

Shane almost let himself start to panic, but instantly heard the floorboards nearby creak loudly under someones weight. Before he could even get a word out, Ryan walked out of a room to his right, eyes glued to his phone while he anxiously bit the fingernails on his other hand. He stood there, then looked up. 

 

When their eyes met, Ryan’s shoulders relaxed and a look of pure relief washed over his face. 

 

“You’re back.”

  

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “But that was quicker than usual. How long was I gone?”

  

Ryan shuffled closer but peered down at his phone, “About forty-five minutes.”

  

“And you stayed?”

  

“I was gonna stick around for a couple hours,” He said, “In case you re-appeared, I didn’t want you to be alone or think another week had passed.”

  

Shane felt that familiar warmth settle in his chest as he smiled, “Thanks, man.”

 

Ryan returned the smile and took his place back on the floor next to Shane, but rubbed his hands down his face. It was probably a worthless endeavor to mention how tired he looked, but pointing out how it was three in the morning would only get him a shrug. Ryan had stayed up way later researching for Unsolved.

  

“Are you, like, stable?” Ryan questioned, “You’re doing that glitchy thingy.”

  

“Glitchy thingy?”

  

“Your body is like-- you sort of, uh, glitch like a video error, when you get unfocused. It’s real weird.” He pointed out, “It’s hard to concentrate on too, cause you’re transparent.”

  

Shane blinked. That shouldn’t surprise him, but it did. “I am?”

  

“Yeah, dude. I can faintly see right though you. Makes sense, cause you’re a ghost and all.”

  

“I hadn’t really thought about that.” Shane said, and peered down at his hands. “I could’ve sworn I wasn’t earlier.”

 

A shrug, “You weren’t. You looked as solid as you did before you died, but then you-” He gestured vaguely over Shane’s body, “-got all weird and started flickering. Now I’m worried.”

  

Shane raked his hands through his hair and sighed heavily.

 

“I don’t know how I’m doing this. Any of it.” He admitted, “I don’t know how to stay visible, let alone _become_ visible. I don’t know how to make you see me.”

  

Then, something in Ryan’s expression changed. The words had sparked his interest, and he had that familiar __‘_ I’m about to go into a long-winded rant about ghosts and theres nothing you can do to stop me’ _look plastered all over his face. This would be the point during an investigation Shane would tune him out.

 

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Shane.” His eyes sparked with determination; some of the bullshit he usually spewed was actually about to become useful. “Ghosts are energy. And for them to manifest like you are now, it takes up a lot of that energy. And if you’ve spent weeks not using any of that, then-”

 

“-I’m like a ghost battery.” Shane finished.

 

Ryan gave him a look, “Well, that’s not quite what I was going to say, but sure. You’re a battery. You’ve got lots of stored up energy. Overflowing with it, probably.”

 

“Alright, so how do I keep this battery fully charged?”

 

“I-” He paused, then frowned. “-y’know, I never thought I’d get this far when communicating with the dead. It would be better if we could go research this stuff better.”

 

“I can’t leave.” Shane reminded him, “You’re the ghost expert. Give me your best theory on why that is.”

 

“That’s an easy one.” He didn’t argue the ghost expert part, “There’s two popular theories why ghosts remain as ghosts. One,” He held up a pointer finger, “They’ve got unfinished business. They died before completing a goal, or were vengeful and stayed behind because they were murdered and want justice.”

 

Shane thought about that, “Well, clearly I wasn’t murdered, and I’m not really mad about being dead, but I don’t wanna be.”

  

“No one wants to die, Shane. If that were the reason ghosts existed, there’d be millions more of them, so lets just jump to theory number two,” He held up a peace sign now, “Ghosts sometimes have attachments to things, or people. They can’t move on while that thing still exists, nor can they drift very far from it.”

  

“That would explain why I can’t leave this stupid place,” Shane agreed, but then frowned, “But-”

 

 Ryan suddenly hopped to his feet, eyes almost glowing with more confidence Shane had ever seen while in a haunted building.

 

“That’s it!” He stared down at Shane, “You must have left something here. We cleared everything out after the police left, but.. it could be anything. A button from your shirt. Literally anything, Shane.

 

“You’re really gonna look for something that may not exist?” Shane asked and got to his feet as well.

 

Ryan nodded.

 

“Don’t worry, big guy. I’m gonna find you a way out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two bros, chilling in a haunted asylum, 5 feet apart cause theyre not gay
> 
> ......uh also, donate to my gofundme to give shane a fucking hug. Maybe sign the petition too.


	13. XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its the banter train rolling into the station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured yall needed some time to recover after everything i've put you through

* * *

 

They started from the beginning.

 

As soon as they entered the main lobby, Ryan already had his phone flashlight on and a determined look on his face. There was no hesitation as he dropped to the ground near the knocked over, and misplaced group of chairs to begin his search. Shane didn’t recall ever walking over there, but really, who knows?

 

He stood in front of the receptionist desk and scanned its surface, but predictably recognized nothing that might have belonged to, or fallen off him. The large map had been the only thing in this room to catch his attention while Ryan went prodding at the door, and he didn’t expect anything of his to be in here.

 

Behind him, Ryan was now crawling across the floor and searched intently underneath every single chair. He moved aside chunks of rotted wood, loose bricks, papers, and whatever else was in his way. There had to be half an inch of dust and dirt on the floor, mixed with dried up leaves that had drifted inside.

 

Shane felt a little guilty he couldn’t help as thoroughly as Ryan did, because the guy was on a search and rescue mission like his life depended on it, and Shane could only stand awkwardly off to the side while occasionally making something move an inch. Still, he could offer some of his useful advice.

 

“What if it’s a hair?”

  

Ryan stopped what he was doing and frowned, “What?”

  

“A hair,” Shane repeated, then ruffled a hand through his locks, “This beautiful mane sheds like crazy, man. Y’think a single strand is whats keeping me here?”

  

“I don’t think that’s how this works, despite that giant, horse-like head of yours.”

  

He put a hand over his heart, “Your words wound me. Wait til’ this gets back to HR, and I sue you for discrimination.”

  

“Uh-huh.” Ryan had already turned away, and moved over to another part of the room. “On what grounds?”

  

“Well, I  _am_  disabled now.” Shane pointed out and grinned when he got an incredulous look, “Seeing as I’m, y’know, dead.”

  

“That wont hold up in court, asshole. I’ve earned the right to bully you.”

  

“Ryan, I’m  _sensitive."_

  

Ryan quickly turned his back to Shane and mumbled something incoherent. Then, a little louder: “It’s not a goddamn hair.”

 __ __ __

“No? Why wouldn’t it?” Shane questioned, “It belongs to me. My soul is embedded in every single strand which makes it 100% Madej, baby.”

 

He knew what the response was going to be as soon as he heard the deep, exhausted sigh.

  

“Shut up, Shane.”

  

With the theory quickly dismissed, and after Ryan went back to his search, Shane thought deeply into the hair probability, but decided after a few minutes, no, that probably wasn’t the case. The world would have an actual ghost problem if they could attach to something thinner than Shane’s patience during a demon investigation.

  

So instead of wasting anymore time on that, and since he couldn’t exactly help  _physically_  search, he decided to search his mind for any possible clues as to what the mysterious ‘thing’ could be. With how carefully Ryan examined everything that caught his attention, the next logical guess was a button, maybe a coin.

  

Or, not that at all. Shane brushed a hand through his hair and leaned against the receptionist desk with a wary sigh he knew he hadn’t earned yet. Not while Ryan worked hard enough for the two of them combined despite just starting the search. He had already cleared half the room while Shane zoned out.

  

That type of dedication to him was completely alien; Shane knew he didn’t deserve it, but was glad to have it.

 

“Hey Ryan?”

 

“Uh-huh?”

 

He hesitated for a few heartbeats, then squeezed his eyes shut as Ryan stopped what he was doing to peer over at him. It was a theory. A dumb one. One he had since the second they had that conversation earlier, but knew saying it out loud would be  _more_  dumb. Shane exhaled, then opened his eyes to meet Ryan’s.

 

“What if its you?”

 

Ryan stared back with a strange expression as he mentally pieced together what was being implied. It sounded stupid, sure, he could admit that, maybe even a little sappy, but it was a possibility. But when Ryan didn’t respond right away, he began to suspect it was more stupid than an actual valid guess.

 

“You said it yourself,” Shane reminded him, but only spoke to fill the unsettling silence. Ryan hadn’t laughed, but he also hadn’t interrupted his train of thought. “Ghosts have attachments to people, or things. I feel like--” He gestured between the two of them, as if that would convey anything. “--I mean, y’know?”

 

He was bad at words. So, so, bad at words, and it was clear from the look on Ryan’s face that  _ _no__ , he didn’t  _‘y’know’._

 

“I sort of understand where you’re coming from,” Ryan started slowly like he was choosing his words carefully, “But, uh.. why me? If you were attached to a living person, why not a family member?”

 

Shane could think of one specific reason, but knew saying out loud would only bring embarrassment and an awkwardness he wasn’t quite ready to deal with. That being said, he wasn’t quite sure how to answer that with a coherent thought, so he stumbled through a sentence before his brain could properly filter it.

 

 “I, er, y’know how people always say we’re attached at the hip, right?”  _Really? That’s all you could come up with?_  “So.. what if you’re the reason I’m stuck here? The universe and all, you know how it can be. So literal. Pulling a fast one on me, keeping me around just to give you ghost evidence.”

 

“That’s both parts flattering and really sad, Shane.” The look on Ryan’s face was practically unreadable by this point, “But If I were some.. supernatural anchor, or whatever, keeping you here, you’d be able to leave and come with me, right? You wouldn’t be stuck, so it’s gotta be here somewhere.”

 

Shane thought about that for a very long moment before he exhaled and let out a shaky, forced laugh,

  

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” A shrug, “You dodged a bullet on that one, eh? Imagine having to deal with me twenty four seven, floating around until ya died.”

  

He automatically turned and walked through the heavy, metal double doors before waiting to hear Ryan’s response.

 

* * *

 

Retracing their steps had been easy, but also proved to be somewhat depressing upon the realization they hadn’t even gotten that far in before everything went wrong. Most of the smaller hallways and rooms had been a bust, containing nothing other that what had already been in the Asylum pre-ghoulbois.

  

Shane even wandered into rooms he knew for a fact he hadn’t stepped foot in, but felt it would put his mind at ease. He quickly scanned those while Ryan took at least ten to fifteen minutes in the few bigger ones the pair had checked out before. He talked out loud about everything he found, but Shane only half paid attention.

  

And as Ryan swatted a spiderweb out of his face, Shane peered out the window where he noticed the moon was much lower in the sky.

  

“What time is it?”

  

He ruffled the remaining traces of web out of his hair, then glanced down at his phone, “Four thirty-six.”

  

“Gotcha.”

  

If Ryan wanted elaboration, he didn’t get it. Shane simply stared at the moon for a few more seconds before he turned and walked out of the room. If all went well, soon he’d be able to stand outside to admire it, or maybe even lie on the grass and stargaze. If he got really lucky, be able to feel the fall breeze too.

  

He sighed and headed down the hall to avoid dealing with the sadness that tried to creep into the pit of his stomach, and that subsequently became annoyance. Then annoyance that he was annoyed. He hated it; how he could only either feel everything at once or nothing at all. One emotion always lead right into another.

  

“Shane, you’re flickering.”

  

He stopped, then glanced down at himself. It was true, he was more transparent than before which was unnerving to actually see. His brain couldn’t quite comprehend being able to see the floor through outstretched hands, which made him squint as if the problem could be resolved by wearing glasses.

  

As for the flickering, that made his mind take a trip right down the toilet. It wasn’t an exaggeration, not by a long shot. Though he wasn’t sure how to describe it accurately, even though Ryan’s glitching analogy was wasn’t that far off. Like an old VHS tape on pause but with less static and more, well, faint flickering.

  

“What’s got you so worked up, big guy? You’ve barely said a word.”

  

Shane shook his head, “I just wanna find this stupid thing and get out of here.”

  

“You and me both. I’m tired of being here.”

  

A quick glance over at his friend proved that to be the understatement of the century; Ryan looked completely drained, and for lack of a better word, dead. The dark bags under his eyes had only gotten worse following the discovery of ghost-shane. He must have been running on fumes, anxiety and stress.

  

“It’s not too late to go home and take a nap, y’know.” Shane reminded him, but earned that same look from before. “Sleep, eat something, take your mind off this for like, an hour.”

  

Ryan shook his head defiantly, “There aren’t many things I  _can_  do to take my mind off this.”

  

“What about Unsolved?”

  

“What about it?”

  

“Work on it?” He suggested, “It’s your baby. You get so into research and writing sometimes, its scary.”

  

Ryan gave him a faraway look, “Unsolved is canned, dude. I told you once before, I wasn’t gonna do it without you.”

  

Shane vaguely remembered the Post Mortem (because honestly all that stuff already seemed like a lifetime ago) where Ryan got real for half a minute, saying how he wouldn’t even be thinking about Unsolved if Shane died. Of course, Shane had detected the sappiness and deflected harder than a Genji main back into the jokes.

  

“I thought you were joking.”

  

Ryan frowned, “No.. besides, it would be wildly disrespectful to replace you after what happened.” He paused, “And the fans liked you more than me anyway. They wouldn’t watch it.”

  

“They would,” Shane argued, “But hey, I can still do it with you. You’ll finally have an actual ghost on camera. All the shaniacs would be.. what are the kids saying these days? Shook?”

  

 A wheeze escaped him, “God, you’re so fucking old, dude.”

  

“They’d be  _shook,_  Ryan.”

  

The two fell into a fit of giggles that melted the tension almost immediately; it was nice. It felt like old times, and for a second, it was. They were just two idiots hunting ghosts, laughing at dumb jokes.  There was too much sadness lately, and Shane only wanted to laugh until it all went away.

  

He watched as Ryan turned away to check something on his phone, but after collecting himself, Shane walked over to peer at the time once more. Something else caught his eye instead. The lack of apps. Obliviously, the two of them were no stranger to social media, career depending on it and all.

  

Not even instagram, which he knew was on the first page of Ryan’s home screen, and always used to post pictures of himself in jerseys with the sole purpose to show off his arms, but in the most  _‘no im not just showing off my arms’_  way possible. He wasn’t complaining about that, though, of course not.

  

“What, you turn Amish?” Shane asked, which made his shorter counterpart tense up. “Fangirls catch up with you?”

  

Ryan jerked away, “Jesus, dude, warn me next time.”

  

 “So what’s the deal? Last time you deleted twitter it was to avoid having a game spoiled.” Shane leaned against the bookshelf, “And that lasted, what, twenty minutes?” 

 

“It was thirty five minutes,” He shot back, “Well, forty if you count the five minutes it took to re-install it with my shitty wi-fi.”

 

Shane cocked his head to the side, arms now crossed.

 

Another long sigh escaped Ryan as he rubbed a hand across his face, then decided to shake his head, “Alright, fine. I guess, technically yeah, it was the fans.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“They became too much.” He said simply, “Even months after the incident, people were still asking me on all platforms about Unsolved. About you.”

 

Shane glanced away, “Oh.”

  

“Yeah. Anything I tried to post was derailed. If they weren’t asking when or if Unsolved was returning, they tormented me about you. Wanted to know exactly what happened, whose fault it was,” Ryan crossed his arms too and stared at the floor, “They kept joking, y’know, what if an angry demon finally caught up with you?”

  

“It was supposed to be light-hearted, I get it, but I was a wreck and having people DM constantly suggesting you were a ghost now, and other stupid theories was just.. it fucking sucked, Shane. So I deleted my twitter, instagram, and all that. I cut myself off from everything and everyone.”

  

Shane moved closer and carefully put an unsteady hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

  

“If either of us says that one more time I’m gonna lose my mind.”

  

He couldn’t help but smile, “Can’t lose what you never had, Bergara.”

  

Ryan sighed. “Real funny, Shane. Where’d you get your sense of humor? Buzzfeed?”

  

_“Ouch.”_

  

Another moment passed before Ryan moved away, “No more heart-to-heart shit tonight, I’ve had enough of that for a while.”

  

“Agreed.”

 

They still needed something to pass the time, though. So after Ryan had finished doing whatever on his phone, and went back to sifting through rubble, Shane only lasted a couple minutes before he hit his limit for ability to remain quiet.

 

“Eye spy with my little eye-” Shane suddenly said, and his lips twitched when Ryan jumped at the sudden noise, “-something brown.”

  

“What are you doing?”

  

“I’m bored.” He drawled, “Y’know how what bored ghosts are like, right? Better entertain me before I open a cupboard door half an inch or-” A dramatic gasp, “-so help me _god_ , Ryan, I’ll make a faint, indistinguishable, gurgle sound.”

  

Ryan let out yet another long, annoyed exhale. “You’re insufferable, has anyone ever told you that?”

  

“I’ll even make some papers rustle around next to an open window. I’m a loose canon, baby.”

  

“Dumb and unfunny, is what you are.”

 

“And for the record, that toothbrush incident you had on the Queen Mary? Still just gravity.”

 

Ryan scoffed, “So you’re a ghost expert now that you’re a ghost?”

 

“Oh, absolutely. Consider me as the DaVinci of Ghosts, the Tolkien of spirits, the LeBron of supernatural forces-”

 

Ryan looked physically repulsed as he held up a hand “Alright, no, enough of that. Not a goddamn word you just said made any sense.”

 

“I’m  _exactly_  like LeBron James, Ryan.”

 

“You.. you’re-- you’re  _nothing_  like-- shut the  _fuck_  up, dude.”

 

“Yes I am.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Yes I am.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

While Shane dissolved into a fit of hysteric, wheezy laughter that caused him to put both hands on his chest and lean into the wall for support, Ryan rolled his eyes but a smile still appeared on his face. It was followed by that warm, tingling sensation that usually flowed through him after these moments.

 

Soon enough, the two recovered and cleared the rest of the room while still continuing their light-hearted banter. They moved out of the room and back down the endless hallways; while Ryan visibly scanned the floor as he walked, he didn’t stop into any of the rooms they passed. Instead, he hurried ahead.

 

He seemed to know where he was going, few paces ahead of Shane at all times until they re-entered that same old corridor. Instead of heading straight down it, Ryan took a left into the wide staircase and it became abundantly clear where they were going. He never faltered until the top of the staircase, then peered over his shoulder.

 

They walked a few minutes in silence until the familiar scene came into view; the caved in floor, visible support beams, destroyed lower walls. Faint beams of sunrise streamed through the numerous holes in the ceiling and illuminated the dust particles in the air, which near automatically made Ryan cough.

  

“I’ll check.” Shane told him, and held out an arm to prevent Ryan from walking any further. “What’s the worst that can happen, right?”

  

Ryan didn’t laugh. He only nodded once and remained rooted in place as Shane moved down the hallway. It didn’t creak or bend under his weight this time, didn’t crack or show signs of visible stress besides what was already there from before. He walked farther than he had managed to get before, then stopped.

  

A foot away from the edge, and he knew if he still had weight, he would have already caused another collapse or fallen through the damn floor again. Shane peered down into the hole with an almost nauseating sense of de-ja vu -- the last time he had been here, he had been looking for answers too.

  

His eyes landed on one of the criss-crossing support beams a few meters down, the same one that he bashed his head off of what felt like forever ago. The faint, dust covered blood spatter on the beam reignited a dull phantom ache within his head, and he automatically reached up to touch his right temple. 

 

“You okay?”

 

Shane ignored him for a moment as he studied the blood, and decided against bringing that up as a theory as to what was keeping him here.  If it wasn’t a hair, why would it be blood? He touched his neck next as the  _crack_  echoed in his ears, but besides the near non-existent ache, he hadn’t felt any pain.

 

“Well,” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Two theories shot down with one stone.”

 

“Two?”

 

Shane turned back towards Ryan, “My blood is on the beam. I guess that dosen’t keep ghosts around, either, huh?”

 

“I don’t think that’s it either.” He paused, “What’s the second theory?”

 

Shane scratched his jaw sheepishly, “Uh, it’s been on the back burner for a while. A part of me, deep down, wondered, y’know… what if I’m in a coma? Maybe I hit my head hard -- but not too hard, and as soon as we find this thing I’ll wake up in a hospital bed. You’ll be there immediately calling me an idiot.”

 

“Do you still think that?” Ryan asked, expression serious.

 

“No.”

 

“Good. Cause this is real, Shane. I swear to you.”

 

“I know.”

 

Ryan pursed his lips, and it was clear from the look on his face he wasn’t quite convinced Shane believed his own words, but decided not to argue. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled and shook his head as Shane walked back over to him. Hopefully that ‘no more heart to heart’ agreement would still hold up.

 

“We’ve got one more place to search, yet.” Shane reminded him, eager to change the subject. “Maybe something fell out of my pocket when I fell. Makes sense, right?”

 

He nodded, “You know I hate it when you’re right.”

 

“Better get used to it, baby.”

 

Ryan rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Let's go.”

 

And the two headed back for the staircase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do heavy, intense research for this fic. For example, earlier i had to google something about sports and i


	14. XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the bois do some investigating

* * *

 

Even though Shane had been in that corridor what felt like a million times, he still felt uneasy. It was where he died, where he woke up, where he realized he was dead, where he first reunited with Ryan. It was home to a plethora of memories, but if everything went smoothly, it’d be the last time he saw this place.

 

The search hadn’t been successful so far with nothing to find but dust bunnies and candy wrappers from past intruders. None of that seemed to damper Ryan’s spirits though, because he never left his confidence waver and always reminded Shane they’d find it soon enough. Shane hoped he was right.

 

Still, here he was. Trapped inside an abandoned, semi-haunted Asylum at the dawn of a new day, with his nutcase of a best friend. The sunrise made the whole corridor glow a mixture of pastel orange and yellows, cast strange shapes across the wall and floor, but in all, made the return feel welcoming for once.

 

Instead of the usual anxiousness and hopelessness the nighttime atmosphere brought, he couldn’t help but feel.. relaxed. Most days spent conscious, it was at sunset or middle of the night -- it did nothing to help the sense of loneliness and abandonment that wrapped a tight fist around his throat.

 

Strange, all things considered. Yet, as he walked down the eerie, high-arched corridor, he felt calmer than ever especially with Ryan at his side. He hadn’t blacked out again even after the bumpy ride of emotions he’d went through earlier - despite the close call - and intended to keep it that way.

 

Shane hung back and silently watched as Ryan walked toward the pile of fallen debris without a word and shoved his hands in his pockets. Until now, it never once occurred to Shane that he also had painful memories associated with this hallway in particular. Memories he probably wanted nothing more than to forget.

 

He would have had to deal with Shane’s dead body, would have had to _see_ a corpse up close and personal. Shane shuddered to think what that experience had been like especially for someone as squeamish and easily spooked as Ryan, because if it had been the other way around.. no, he didn’t want to think about that.

 

Ryan peered up at the ceiling, and whatever he contemplated in those few moments was a complete mystery. He relaxed his shoulders as his gaze turned back to the mess in front of him, so Shane inched closer as well. This was it. Whatever they were looking for had to be here, or they were going to be out of luck.

 

He silently shook his head as Ryan crouched over the pile to begin his search. Hesitant at first, careful, but he eventually started to root through the rotted boards at a faster pace. There weren’t many, but the floor where Shane had landed had understandably broke open from the weight that had dropped into it.

 

“Look, Ry,” Shane started and shifted awkwardly, “I know we agreed no more heart-to-heart, but..” He paused long enough for Ryan to peer over at him, “…what happened after-” A vague gesture towards the pile, “-y’know?”

 

Ryan met his eyes for a moment, but then became suddenly more interested in the floor again.

 

“A lot of cops.” He spoke after a minute of silence, but returned to his work more slow this time. “They questioned me and the crew.. I don’t remember much, it was all a blur. The owner showed up too, threatened to sue or whatever.” He paused, “But the whole thing was over within a few hours.”

 

“Sounded rough.”

 

Ryan snorted, “Rough didn’t even begin to cover it. Some local news station caught wind of it -- no one told them anything -- and TJ practically begged the cops not to leak any names. But um..” He paused again, “That didn’t really do much. I guess one of the reporters took a picture of us at the scene.”

 

“People recognized us and it didn’t take long for the speculation and theories to start flying. Old, haunted asylum plus Ryan Bergara and an unnamed dead person? You know how the internet is. God, it was all over twitter before someone even had a chance to contact your family, and that sucked so bad.” 

 

“Everyone at work took it pretty hard. Everyone apologized to me, like it was their fault. God, I hated how they looked at me, walked on eggshells around me like I’d snap or break at any minute.” Ryan shook his head and shoved a pile of rocks aside with a discontent expression, “Yeah, it was really rough.”

 

He looked up at Shane again with a smile, but there was so joy in it. “I just wanted to find proof of ghosts. And this.. isn’t how I ever expected to find it.”

 

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “You’re telling me. Uh, sorry for bringing it up.”

  

He shrugged, “I would have asked too.”

  

And that was that. He went back to rooting through rubble

 

Some cracks in the concrete were wider than others with weeds and moss sprouting through them and across the floor. That didn’t stop Ryan as he ripped them out by the handful and tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, then dug into the small fissures. His determination hadn’t faltered in the slightest.

 

And soon enough, that determination finally paid off. After a few more minutes of that search routine, Ryan sat upright so quickly it startled Shane out of his thoughts. He aimed his phones flashlight down on an object that Shane had to get closer to see properly, but frowned when the other looked excited.

 

“I mean, I might have had change in my pocket at the time.” Shane said, the cocked his head to the side, “But it also could be anyone’s quarter.”

 

The look on Ryan’s face didn’t falter as he turned the coin over in his palm, “In this exact spot? Dosen’t seem like a coincidence, Shane.”

 

He was right. This was no time to be skeptical.

  

“Okay. So let’s go find out.”

  

Ryan grinned and shot to his feet. He pocketed his phone, but clutched the quarter in his fist and hurried back down the hall. Shane wordlessly followed, but couldn’t help the feeling of excitement that started to build in his chest. What if this was it? What if a stupid quarter is what was keeping him here?

  

The pair made it to the lobby in no time, but he faltered when Ryan sped up. Wait, what if it didn’t work? He watched Ryan make a bee line towards the door then crossed the threshold and quickly turned to face him with the quarter still wrapped in a fist. That ridiculous grin was still plastered on his face.

  

He was backdropped by the orange and yellow streaks of early sunrise, which made his tender smile seem more warm than it had any right to be. Still, it made the view in front of him seem that much more welcoming. The worry melted away and the excitement returned, but low-key enough to keep it in check.

  

Slightly dazed, Shane’s next few steps were cautious with the reminder of what happened last time he tried to cross through. There was an understandable amount of hesitation before he decided to swallow the doubt and just focus on Ryan’s smile; Shane forced himself to keep walking and tensed as he reached the archway.

  

And he walked right through it. 

 

“Holy shit.” He muttered, glancing down to his feet which were no longer inside the Asylum. He stood on cracked concrete.

  

“You’re out.”

  

And for some reason, those words didn’t bring as much relief as he thought they would have. Lingering doubt and slight guilt still settled in his gut, but in that moment he had no idea why. He was out. He didn’t have to spend another godforsaken minute in that place, so why did it still feel like something was wrong?

  

“You don’t look very happy, Shane.”

  

“I don’t feel as happy as I want to be.” He agreed, then met Ryan’s stare. “I don’t know why.”

  

Both of them stared at the quarter, but he knew that wasn’t it.

 

“How about we get out of here, then?” Ryan suggested and that smile returned, “I think a change of scenery will make it sink in.”

 

He was about to agree, but then he heard a quiet; “Shane?”

 

Fuck.

 

Shane immediately turned around like it was the cue his brain had been waiting for, but at the same time the bothersome ache suddenly made sense when he met Eli’s confused stare. She stood in front of the receptionist desk and fiddled anxiously with her fingers, but her wide, pleading eyes rendered him speechless.

 

“Are you leaving?” She asked, “Please don’t leave.”

 

She looked so heartbroken.

 

Shane exhaled loudly and dragged his hands across his face. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Sonofabitch.”

 

“What?” Ryan asked, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t leave yet.” Shane mumbled into his hands.

 

“What? Why?”

 

He turned back to look at Ryan, then stepped aside so he had a clear view of Eli.

 

 “Oh, jesus.” His breath caught, “Is that-?”

 

When he cut himself off, Shane nodded grimly. “Yeah. That’s her. Eli.”

 

“I still don’t-- wait, she? That’s a she?”

 

“Well, yeah. What does she look like to you?”

 

“A shadow, basically. Like a proper ghost.”

 

Shane turned back towards Eli who hadn’t moved since being acknowledged, but stared back at him with an expression that told him she wasn’t sure what was going on. Half-way draped in the shadows, she cradled her arms to her chest but Shane could picture how spooky that must look from Ryan’s perspective.

 

“Listen, Ry, it’s a long story, but..” He let out a defeated sigh, “She thinks I’m her brother. She likes me.”

 

“She thinks you’re--” Ryan looked beyond confused, “-- _what?_  Why?”

 

Shane helplessly shrugged, “I saw a picture of the guy. The resemblance is uncanny, and I guess a century old ghost would jump to that sort of conclusion.”

 

“Uh.. So.. you wanna go back in there?”

 

“No, not really.” Shane admitted, “But she’s a kid, Ryan. She’s literally the only other ghost in there, and if you can imagine what I went though in there, she probably has it ten times worse. And if we found my thing, whose to say we can’t find hers?”

 

It took a minute for Ryan to process that, “Okay. Alright. This is-- I mean, what if we can’t?”

 

Shane hadn’t thought that far ahead, but it didn’t matter. When it came to Eli, he had a feeling he knew exactly what the item was. They’d be in and out, and he’d never have to step foot in that place again. For real this time. And he didn’t want to start wondering about the ‘what ifs’ when it came to finding her room.

 

“We’ve gotta at least try.”

 

Ryan looked beyond stressed out.

 

“You don’t have to.” Shane assured him, “I know you hate it in there, so--”

  

“I’m in.”

 

“--you don’t have to.” He finished, then blinked in surprise. “Wait, really? Just like that?”

  

Ryan swallowed nervously, but met his eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Shane. I’m seconds away from pissing myself every minute I’m in there, but this-” he gestured vaguely towards Eli, “-is what we, or at least I’ve, been trying to do. Talk to ghosts, figure out their story. If I can help one, uh.. move on, I’ll be satisfied forever.”

  

The two of them both turned back to face Eli, and the worried expression hadn’t faded from her face. Shane shut his eyes, exhaled loudly and stepped back into the asylum despite the protesting from somewhere in the back of his mind. When he opened them again, Eli had moved away from them.

 

“What, um- what does she look like?” Ryan asked

 

“She’s about.. ten, I’d say.” He said, “Short hair, dark eyes, freckles, dosen’t talk much.”

 

Standing back in the lobby, with bright sunlight washing through it, he felt more at ease. More in control. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ryan pocket the quarter which only strengthened the feeling. He felt safe, calm, less trapped than before now that he could leave the building whenever he wanted to.

 

As they had re-entered, Eli moved back over to the far wall with a skeptical eye on Ryan. It didn’t take long for that look to be transferred to Shane, since he still hadn’t answered her initial question. Would she act different if she knew what he had been about to do? Would it be better to keep her in the dark?

  

“C’mere, Eli.” Shane offered out a hand, then let it falter. Did you offer your hand out and say ‘come here’ to a child? Or were you only supposed to use that on pets? God forbid he accidentally make the chirping noise all pet owners did. “I told ya, he’s way more scared of you, than you are of him.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan was rubbing his temples, “Yeah, that’s for fucking sure. What if its-- she’s, a demon?”

  

“She’s not.”

  

Eli moved closer but kept a wary eye on Ryan, who, in turn, stared back with a tense, panicked expression. He was understandably nerve-wracked, because for all his talk of seeing faint ghost apparitions or hearing things, he had never actually seen a full-bodied, clear as day, honest to god, ghost.

  

The same guy who wanted definitive proof of spirits; ranted and theorized about all the ways they could exist; argued tooth and nail for their existence, yet always seemed to want to astral project out of there the second he thought something otherworldly touched him. He should have been careful what he wished for.

 

During Eli’s hesitant approach, Ryan remained still as a statue despite the noticeable trembling. He swallowed nervously, and tensed as Shane attempted once again to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Standing next to your ghost bff while another unfamiliar ghost approached? Must be way beyond stressful.

  

He didn’t look away when Eli finally stopped a foot and a half from them, mainly between them but inched closer to Shane. The two remained in some unbalanced staring contest, even though he knew Ryan couldn’t actually see her face. Did she know that? Probably not. Was he going to point it out? Again, probably not.

  

“So..” Ryan breathed out, voice low as he turned to look at Shane with that same unnerved expression, “You’ve made ghost friends.” He paused, then did that laugh Shane knew was completely fake, yet always seemed to do to defuse awkward or tense situations, “Cool. That’s cool. Really cool.”

  

Eli gave him a sideways look as if he had just spoken a foreign language,

 

 

“Y’know,” Shane drawled, “For someone who made it his mission in life to prove ghosts are real and talk to one, you’re not very good at it.”

 

“Shut up, Shane.” He finally tore his gaze away from Eli, but it was clear he was shaken. “I don’t-- What am I even supposed to say?”

 

“Introduce yourself, y’know, like you always do?”

 

For almost a minute, no one said a word while Ryan physically tried to work himself up to say only a few words.

 

“Uh, Hello.” The forced smile looked almost painful along with the hesitant wave, “I’m Ryan. I think you already knew that.”

  

She nodded, then glanced at Shane with uncertainty still lingering in her eyes.

 

“You trust me right?” He asked

 

Another nod.

 

“Then you can trust Ryan, I promise. He may look and smell weird-” He ignored Ryan’s scoff. “-but he’s my friend. He’s here to help.”

 

“Okay,” She responded, “Hello, Ryan.”

 

Shane peered at him, “She said hello.”

 

Ryan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples, “This is weird. This is so fucking _weird _,__  dude. You’re taking to ghosts. _You _,__  Shane Madej, are translating for honest to god, real spirits. I’m losing my whole, entire goddamned mind.”

 

A confused expression took over Eli’s face, “Huh?”

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Shane waved a hand, then addressed Ryan; “Believe me, I’m not used to it yet either. It’s uh.. a lot to process.”

 

“Is she really the only other ghost here?”

 

He shrugged, “Seems so. Maybe the others don’t know how to use any of that-” He wiggled his fingers, “-renewable ghost energy.”

 

“Oh man, what the _fuck?”_

 

Before either could respond, Eli frowned once more but this time she spoke quietly; “Fuck?”

 

Shane wasn’t sure why, but he involuntary gasped.

 

Ryan blinked, “What?”

 

“Don’t say that,” Shane told her, aware to how ridiculous this must sound from an outsiders perspective. “It’s not a word you should know.”

 

 “Did she say fuck?” He asked, eyes wide. “Did you teach a ghost how to say fuck?”

 

“No, I didn’t teach her how to say fuck, Ryan. She’s a child.”

 

Eli interrupted them, “What does fuck mean, Shaney?”

 

“Nothing. It’s a bad word.” He told her, “An adult word.”

 

She quickly covered her mouth, “Sorry! I’m sorry!”

 

He turned back to Ryan, “So I think I know what we’re looking for but I have no idea how to get back there.”

 

“Great. I don’t suppose she could help with that?”

 

Shane peered over, “Hey, Eli? Do you remember where your-- uh, _our_ room is? Can you take us there?”

 

It seemed to take a minute for his words to fully register with her, but she finally smiled brightly, turned away from the two and headed to the door behind the receptionist desk. Shane shared a conflicted look with Ryan, who made the first move and gestured for Shane to go first. He did, quick not to lose sight of Eli.

 

* * *

 

While Eli skipped ahead, he simply watched as she put both arms out and flapped them as if to resemble a bird, complete with quiet _woosh_  noises. Every so often she’d run in a circle, giggling, while waiting for the two to catch up. As soon as they did, she’d take off down the hall and wave her arms even faster.

  

And it made his chest ache.

  

“So, uh..” Ryan leaned closer, even though she was out of earshot, “..she clearly dosen’t realize she’s dead, right?”

  

“No,” He agreed, “I don’t think she has the, er, mental capacity to process all this. She still thinks _we’re_  waiting for _our_  mom to return.”

  

They both watched Eli jump and attempt to catch something out of the air several times.

  

“She’s just a kid..” Ryan mumbled. He seemed more relaxed around her now, but the saddened expression on his face matched the hurt Shane felt just watching her. “Jesus, dude, whose mom leaves their kid in a place like this?”

  

“I know.” He glanced away from Eli, “It sucks.”

 

Ryan was silent for a moment, “What’s the deal with you two?”

 

“Like I said, it’s a long story.”

 

“We’ve got time.”

 

They _did_ have time to kill. Who was to say they were even remotely close to Eli’s room or she even knew where to go? In the meantime, Shane filled him in on the whole situation, from the first meeting in the cafeteria, all the way until the encounter with the spirit box. Everything he learned about her, everything they talked about.

 

He stayed silent through most of it but it was clear he was beyond bewildered at the idea of Shane befriending, and kinda-sorta caring for a ghost. Shane wasn’t thrilled about that last part, but he had to admit he felt a sort of.. protectiveness towards her. That wasn’t odd. Anyone would feel the same way, right?

 

Shane decided it was better to not think about it. Instead, he focused on the barrier they had just come across. After several more twists and turns (and avoiding elevators like the plague) they were lead to a staircase that was within a caged portion of the wall. Eli simply walked right through the bars like it was nothing.

 

They approached it, but Ryan seemed more hesitant since it appeared to be locked from the other side.

 

“Hey Ryan, watch this.”

 

Shane walked forward and through the metal bars just as easily as Eli had. The discomfort only took the form of mild dizziness as he turned back to face his awestruck friend.

 

“You-- you just-” Ryan stared at him with eyes so wide, Shane was sure they’d pop out at any second. “-holy fuck.

 

“The holiest of fucks,” Shane agreed then glanced down at the simple padlock. It was no larger than something you’d find on a school locker, but had a keyhole rather than a combination. “Hey, reach through and pull this thing off, it’s unlocked.”

 

Ryan approached the door, slipped an arm through the metal bars and pat it down until he found the lock. While he worked to get it open, Shane peered over his shoulder and up the stairwell but their little ghost companion was nowhere to be seen even though her quiet humming echoed throughout the room.

 

“Do you hear that?” Shane asked.

 

Ryan had slipped through the rusted, creaky door and came to a stop beside him at the base of the stairs. “Hear what?”

 

“She’s humming. It sounds like something straight out of a horror movie.”

 

“Oh. Great.”

 

Shane simply rolled his eyes at the sight of the others suddenly worried expression, and started the climb upstairs. One thing he liked about being dead, was that he didn’t have to breathe. Which meant after all the exploring, he couldn’t get winded or tired. That sure came in handy when there were stairs fucking everywhere.

 

He followed the sound of Eli’s voice which never seemed to get closer, so instead fell back to walk along side Ryan.

 

“So,” He began, “How does it feel being the only living person?”

 

“It could be worse.” Ryan admitted, but kept his eyes glued to the ground. “There could be a hundred other ghosts in here.”

 

Shane nodded; had there been more ghosts than just the two of them, others could have messed with Ryan and set their progress back by miles. It was good, but he knew Ryan was also somewhat disappointed. When he presented this location for an episode, he was so convinced _this_ time they’d finally get solid proof.

 

“No one else here had a reason to stay?” Ryan mumbled to himself, disbelief coated over every word. “No attachments to people? Things?”

  

“It’s hard to believe, since tons of these people were murdered.” Shane agreed, “That’d make for a hell of a lot of vengeful poltergeists.”

  

Ryan frowned, “She was murdered, right? She’s not a vengeful spirit.”

  

“No, because she’s attached to-”

  

Shane stopped mid-sentence _and_ mid-step. Oh. Of course. Of _course._ How had he missed it?

  

“What? What happened just now?” Ryan pressed,

  

Shane pushed out of his daze, now the dawning realization didn’t make him feel better.

  

“Shane?”

  

“Eli’s only stuck here because she was looking for her brother. She died not knowing what happened to him.” He mumbled, then ran a hand through his hair. “I know it’s probably the locket she left behind, but considering the circumstances-?”

 

It took Ryan a moment to process that, but when it clicked his eyes went wide, “You’re saying she won’t move on without him.”

 

“And she thinks I’m him.”

 

“No,” Ryan stopped dead in his tracks, “No, Shane. I don’t have any ill-will against a kid, but no. Fuck that.”

 

Eli, as if on que, stopped humming and after a moment he heard her concerned voice echo down the stairwell: “Shane?”

 

“Hang on, Eli!” He called up, then turned back to Ryan. “Listen, Ry. I know. She’s grown on me, I’ll admit, but I don’t plan on like, going to the afterlife with her. I don’t think that’s even possible since I’m _not_ him. I wouldn’t even if I could. I want to stay with you.”

 

Ryan’s desperate eyes searched his intently. For the truth? For a sign he was lying? He had no idea, but even despite the words, Ryan didn’t look comforted nor convinced.

 

“I’m sorry, dude” He mumbled and ran his fingers through his hair, “I’m just tired. And I don’t wanna lose you again.”

 

“You won’t.”

 

“I’ll hold you to that, Madej.”

  

Shane gave him a half-hearted smile, knowing that was a promise he couldn’t keep, but they made it to the top without any more conversation.

  

Eli stood in the middle of the walkway as they approached, but she glanced around like she was suddenly unaware of her surroundings, like she didn’t know how she got there. This didn’t look anything close to the sector they had found her room in before; it just looked like libraries and more offices.

 

The hallway they exited lead them out onto a narrow catwalk that stretched around the entirety of the large, rectangular room. Most of the wooden railings were still intact, as was the concrete floor, but that didn’t seem to make Ryan any less nervous as he walked over to peer down at the floor below.

 

A large sign reading ‘Archives’ was hanging off the wall next to a set of intricate, white stained glass double doors immediately to their left. The right door was already open, with its bottom half smashed out and the resulting glass was scattered across the floor. He ignored it for now and walked over to Eli.

  

“Don’t like it here, Shaney.” She mumbled.

 

“Why?”

  

 “Came here when I ran away. Hid in there-” she pointed at the archives room. “-they got mad.”

  

“Did they hurt you?”

  

The question seemed to cause her nervousness to intensify; she hugged herself as her eyes darted around.

  

“Can’t be here.” She repeated

  

And then she was gone.

  

“Hey, Shane, are we-” Ryan started, but then cut himself off after turning around, “-wait, where’d she go?”

  

Shane stared at the spot she had just been standing, then shook his head. “Something spooked her. It’s just us now.”

  

“What? How are we supposed to find her room, then?”

  

His eyes were drawn over to the archives room, and figured it was a stroke of pure luck that they just happened to stumble across it. Truth be told, Shane hadn’t had that much faith in her navigation abilities, so maybe they’d find the answer in that room. That was, if it hadn’t already been cleared out when this place closed.

  

Shane gestured for him to follow as he stepped over the shattered glass and into the dark room, but was quickly illuminated when Ryan turned on the flashlight behind him.

  

The room was about a school gymnasium in size, yet only about eight feet tall. Unused, cob-web covered lamps dangled from the ceiling spread out every three meters or so with the only light source coming from the frosted, floor to ceiling, rectangular windows lining the wall directly across from them.

  

Immediately in-front of them were eight writing desks placed back to back with a filing cabinet on the end of each. They all had a bulky typewriter with their own lamps, stack of books and various other trinkets. The rest of the room was filled with high bookshelves or much larger filing cabinets in no particular pattern. 

 

“Well.” Shane clapped his hands together, but chose to ignore the fact it didn’t make any noise. “Where do we start?”

 

“This will take a while,” Ryan reminded him, but scratched the back of his neck and scanned the room. “And besides, you can’t help anyway.”

 

“I can offer you my commentary and advice.”

 

“Oh, great. Can’t wait for that.”

 

Shane snorted, “You love it.”

 

“I don’t. You’re about as helpful as a newborn baby.”

 

“Goo goo ga ga.”

 

“Shut _up_ , Shane.”

  

After a bit more playful, childish banter, they got to work. Most of the filing cabinets were rusted shut so the god-awful noise they made when forced open was almost demonic in nature. It was ten times worse than nails being dragged down a chalkboard, earning a headache comparable to ones he got from the spirit box.

  

The entire back wall was lined with them, two meters tall, at least one wide with several drawers in each. Every single one had piles of books, folders and other regular office supplies stacked on top so when Ryan yanked a drawer open, a handful of items fell off. He’d grumble when the odd stapler hit him on the noggin.

  

Despite the circumstances, it really seemed like Ryan was in his element. He loved researching, he loved learning, and in this case, he wanted to help. If he found a folder that interested him, he’d skim through its contents and when he must have assumed Shane wasn’t looking, pulled out his phone for a picture.

  

After all that focus, it didn’t take long to figure out what they were looking for.

  

“Shane, check this out. Does this look like her?”

  

He wandered over as Ryan blew off dust from the inside of a folder he was examining. It was a plain, yet faded yellow cover with only a few pieces of paper stapled together inside. But a picture paper-clipped to the edge caught his attention; a small, 3x3, black and white photo of a young girl who looked unhappy.

  

“That’s her,” Shane said and scanned over the name. Eli DeGroote.

  

“Says she arrived Febuary 12th, 1887 and stayed until 1890 but died on December 23rd.” Ryan read out loud even though Shane scanned the next few paragraphs over his shoulder, “Behavior issues, but that’s it for reason of admission.” A pause, “Cause of death was.. a broken neck. She fell and died on impact.”

  

“She was _pushed.”_ Shane muttered.

  

Ryan exhaled, “Uh, oh, here we go! It says she shared room 334 in Building C. Do you know where that is?”

 

“I’m sure there’s a map somewhere,” He shrugged, but that’s not what he was interested in. “But look for him first.”

 

Thankfully all the folders were alphabetical, so Ryan reached in and pulled out the only other ‘DeGroote’ in the drawer.

 

“Oh, wow.” Ryan said as he flipped the file open. “You weren’t joking about the resemblance.”

 

Shane stared down at the grainy, black and white photo, but unlike the picture from Eli’s locket, Shayne DeGroote didn’t look happy in the slightest. He stared into the camera with a deadpan expression, sporting days worth of stubble and unkempt hair along with a bloody cut on his lip and above his right eyebrow.

 

There were a few more pieces of paper in his folder, but he focused on the first one since Ryan hadn’t moved it aside yet. Born September 19th. Twenty-six years old. Six foot one. Brown eyes, brown hair. Behavior issues was the reason for admission, just like Eli. But he was an adult; how’d their mother legally admit him?

 

He was put in solitary confinement seven times. Three times for stealing extra food, once for getting into a fight, once for disobeying rules and two more times for attempting to steal extra blankets. Below, it mentioned he willingly agreed to extra punishment if they agreed to let his sister keep what he took.

 

Shane was starting to peace together the type of person he was.

 

“Look at that,” Shane reached over and pointed at one of the sections after Ryan had flipped the page, “Died on December 25th, 1890. That’s two days after Eli.”

 

“Yeah. And it says cause of death was lethal injection.” He paused, “They killed him.”

  

Shane was about to question why, but scanned a little farther down in the research notes where he quickly found his answer. Shayne DeGroote, who was described as a timid, helpful and compliant young man early on in the notes, suddenly became ‘unstable and unpredictable’ in one day as he attacked three employees.

  

It went on to describe how he became ‘a raving lunatic’ and ‘shouted obscenities and accusations until the moment he was locked in solitary’. The notes framed him like some sort of monster, but Shane couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity in his gut -- especially looking at the dates. It was no coincidence why he snapped.

  

“He must have found out who killed his sister, tried to get some sort of vengeance.” Shane mumbled and took a step back, “And they killed him for it.”

 

As the realization settled, Ryan shared the same look of disgust, but decided to close the folder. “Jesus christ, dude. This place is awful.”

 

Shane had never felt so much pity for someone he’d never met before, but he decided to shake it off. “Whatever. Let’s just.. find building C, alright?”

 

“Right. And let’s hope we get lucky and never have to come here again.”

  

They both nodded in mutual agreement then headed for the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Come join the bfu discord server https://discord.gg/9tfrqTW !


	15. XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pure filler until i can get the plot back from vacation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers block has been kicking my ass lately, plus I've been super busy with work n' stuff. This isn't much, but I figured I'd better post something before I take another short hiatus until I can get back into the swing of things.

* * *

 

The route to Building C was even more of a maze than before. They’d found a floor-plan in one of the books sitting on a desk in the archives room, so Ryan studied it intently as they walked. The quickest way to the connecting building was through an underground passage which neither were too thrilled about.

 

They could have retraced their steps back to the lobby and walked to it from outside, but both agreed it was too time consuming. Time was of the essence, especially when it meant Shane’s freedom from this godforsaken place. If all went well, they’d be out of here by the end of the day and that’d be that.

 

Still, he tried to ignore the guilt that settled in his gut. Eli was the reason they were still here. She was just a random ghost, but she was also a kid who was murdered and deserved some sort of closure. Even if her mother wasn’t waiting in the afterlife, she still had a brother who had quite literally given his life for her.

 

The lingering guilt was like a phantom pain. Once more, he tried to push away the pressing questions of what was going to happen when they finally found the necklace, what he could possible tell Eli to make her move on? Nothing. Nothing at all came to mind, so he tucked it in the back of his mind for now.

 

Instead, he focused on the path ahead.

 

The space was dead silent save for the intermittent creaks coming from nowhere in particular, but soft scratches against the wood panels were most prominent. Black mold dotted the walls, moss grew from the cracks. Paint peeled off the walls in large chunks, revealing the dull, grey concrete beneath.

 

The entrance to the tunnel was the least inviting thing Shane had ever seen. There was a short hallway branching off from the decrepit basement, where Ryan shoved open a pair of rusted, metal, double doors. They scraped across the stone floor, screeching in protest while the echoes bounced off the walls.

 

“Oh.” Shane mused, “This looks fun.”

 

Now standing in the middle of what seemed to be an endless, empty corridor straight to hell, Ryan shined his flashlight all around. It was at least three meters in both height and width, but even with all that space, Ryan moved closer to Shane. He didn’t say a word as the two took in their new surroundings.

 

Both the ceiling and walls were smooth concrete, poorly patched in with brick in some places.The concrete itself looked a sickly, stained yellow. Large chunks were missing from the ceiling, piles of rubble were scattered across the floor with various re-bar jutting out from where ever they had fallen from.

  

Two different black pipes were attached to the upper right corner, which stretched on as far as the eye could see and into the darkness ahead. Shane could faintly hear the sound of it leaking somewhere in the distance, which only made the atmosphere that much more unsettling. He was sure it smelled much worse.

  

“It’s fucking Waverly Hills all over again, dude.” Ryan said but hadn’t moved from his spot, “I hate this. I _hate_ this.”

  

“It _does_ have that vibe.” Shane noted, “At least we don’t have to go _down_ this time, huh?”

  

“..yeah.”

  

At the shaky, quiet reply, Shane glanced down at him. It was no surprise that Ryan already looked so nervous and visibly trembled at the idea of walking down this hell-like corridor. Unlike Waverly when they had cameras rolling, more lights and they were _both_ , well.. alive, Ryan had no reason to put on his brave face.

  

“Hey,” Shane moved around until he was standing directly in front of him to block the view, so Ryan had no choice but to look up at him. Though, we wasn’t quite sure how much his transparent form blocked, “You good? You need a minute?”

  

“No, no, I’m--” He started, but the excuse faded. Instead, he broke eye contact and stared off to the side. “I’m fi-fine. Let’s just go.”

  

Shane wasn’t convinced. “We don’t have to be down here, Ry. We’ll go the long way around.”

  

He didn’t respond with words, but Shane watched as Ryan shakily exhaled and squeezed his eyes shut. Silence overtook the room again as he collected himself, but Shane waited patiently because he understood, because this wasn’t the first time Ryan had been too scared to function. He always made sure that part got edited out.

  

“Hey,” Shane repeated, but lifted a hand to cup the side of Ryan’s face. Even though he couldn’t physically feel it made contact with skin, the sudden warmth indicated it was close enough. Ryan responded by meeting his stare again. “I’m here. I’ll be here every step of the way, okay? I won’t leave you down here.” 

 

The gesture seemed to melt some of the tension from Ryan’s shoulders, and the anxious expression was replaced with a timid, warm smile.

 

“Okay.” His eyes drifted from Shanes. “Okay.”

 

“You’re gonna be alright?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I am now.”

 

When their stares met once more, he genuinely seemed more calm and his smile turned sincere. In turn, Shane couldn’t help but mirror the smile. He was relieved among other things; as a ghost, he knew his presence probably wouldn’t keep Ryan calm for long like it did when he was still alive. But it was a start.

 

It took a moment for his brain to register this was the part where he should probably pull away rather than stand there all night staring intently at Ryan, so he carefully drew that hand back. The warmth was immediately missed so he wished he could put a comforting arm around around his friends’ shoulders.

 

Ryan wordlessly increased the screen brightness on his phone and squinted against the harsh, white light, but now the whole area immediately around them was lit up fairly well. He couldn’t help but notice how the phones battery was at 54% which was probably the same percentage as Ryan’s current stress level.

 

Even with the reassurance that there weren’t any other ghosts around, Ryan still looked over his shoulder every five seconds and took the light with him.

 

“Hey, some of us still need to see, y’know.” Shane pointed out.

 

“You _can’t_ see?”

 

“In the dark? Ryan, I’m a ghost not a _werewolf.”_

 

Ryan sheepishly turned back around and held up the phone with a steady hand.“Point taken. I guess I, uh, just thought stuff would affect you differently.”

 

Shane put both pointer fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut, “Wait, maybe if I focus really hard I can activate my ghost abilities. Hang on, Ry, I think it’s working.”

 

He couldn’t see it, but he was sure Ryan rolled his eyes. “Okay, forget I asked y-”

 

“Ghost powers, _activate!”_ Shane shouted and his eyes shot open.

 

“You’re fucking ridiculous.”

 

Shane gasped and stared into the pitch black hallway, “My _god,_ I can see everything. I can see into the supernatural realm, Ryan. Everything is so much more clear!”

 

“Okay, idiot, I get it.”

 

“I can see all sorts of ghouls, they’re all hungry for that soul of yours, and they’ve got their fine china ready to go.”

 

“I’m ignoring you now.” Ryan shook his head and quickened his pace, “Consider yourself ignored.”

 

“Demons! Ghouls! Now’s your chance!”

 

Ryan moved a hand up to the left side of his face as a shield to block Shane out of his peripheral vision.

 

“One more word, and I’ll call the Ghostbusters. They’ll suck you up and I’ll be done with your stupid face forever.”

 

Shane snorted, “Oh, Ryan, I love it when you talk dirty.”

 

“I’ll find a way to bring you back to life just so I can kill you myself.”

 

“Y’think there’s some sort of demon ritual somewhere for that sort of thing?” He peered over at Ryan. “I’m sure the Reddit for Necromancy would be a good start.”

 

“You’d need a physical body for necromancy to work.”

 

“Dig me up, baby. Let’s get to work.”

 

With Ryan’s heavy sigh, it signaled the end of _that_ conversation, but Shane knew silence would only worsen Ryan’s ever-present anxiety.

 

“Speaking of demons--” Shane started

 

“Oh boy.”

 

“--I was thinking,” A pause, “There goes all those theories about me being one, huh?”

 

Ryan looked over at him briefly, “Yeah. But you had me convinced there, for a while.”

 

“Ryan, I taunted ghosts, asked to grab my nips and wrote multi-chapter sagas about sentient hot dogs.” A smile formed on Shane’s face, “What part of that screamed _demon_  to you?”

 

“I didn’t really, like-- I didn’t believe all those theories 'cause most of ‘em were pretty crazy, but--” He paused, then shook his head but seemed more relaxed. “..but y’know, at three in the morning I’ll believe anything if its presented well enough.”

 

Shane wanted to laugh, but settled for a warm smile instead. “So. You admit you actually entertained the idea that I may have been a demon?”

 

“Yes, Shane. Fine, I’ll admit it.”

 

He hummed thoughtfully, “What if I was?”

 

“I’d be pissed.”

 

Not the answer Shane had been expecting. _“Pissed?_  Why?”

__

Ryan stopped mid-step and turned to face him, with his expression displaying complete seriousness.

 

“Because you would have known ghosts and shit were real the whole time, and you didn’t tell me!”

 

He met Ryan’s stare and the grin only widened. “That’s it? You’d be more mad about _that_ over the fact I could have been an actual demon spawned from hell?”

 

“I-- I mean, yeah, why?” He asked, “You think I’d be scared of you? _You?_ You’d be the least intimidating demon in history, and the goofiest looking one at that.”

 

“You really know how to make a guy feel special, y’know that? Really warms the cockles of my heart.”

 

“Don’t say cockles.”

 

“Oh? Why not? Are my cockles _bothering_  you, Ryan?”

 

In response, Ryan turned his head away but let out a soft giggle which Shane knew for certain he had been trying to restrain. It made him smile; there was a certain, welcome, warmth that came with the ability to make Ryan laugh at a stupid joke or dumb quip. It was unexplainable, but it made him feel good. So he did it anyway.

 

And besides, while he had been distracting Ryan from the fact they were walking down a hallway that once held dozens of dead bodies, they’d managed to get a hundred feet or so despite the slow pace. The tunnel was supposed to connect to all four main buildings, so he’d have to hope they didn’t run into a dead end.

 

But then something strange happened.

 

A noise, more specifically. It was high pitched, yet distant. He peered over at Ryan for confirmation, but he didn’t seem phased. Ryan, who apparently heard anything and everything ranging from casual conversation to a pin dropping all the way in fucking _china_ during an investigation. He didn’t hear it.

 

Then, it happened again and Shane wasn’t sure he heard it right.

 

Shane glanced over his shoulder, and although the flashlight wasn’t aimed in its direction, he noticed the tiny, yet distinct outline of an animal, with the flashlight briefly shining on its eyes. It simply stared at him and sat against the wall, tail slowly flicking back and forth as it let out another quiet but distinct meow.

 

His feet stopped moving before his brain even registered it, and immediately dropped to one knee while holding out an expectant hand. It seemed to consider the offer for a couple seconds, but shane momentarily lost sight of it as the light source got farther away. It meowed again, closer this time.

  

“Hey lil’ guy,” He cooed, and squinted against the darkness when it was suddenly in front of him. It cautiously sniffed his hand. “What’re you doing down here?”

  

Behind him, Ryan stopped moving. “Shane?” The flashlight shined over him, so now he could properly see the brown-furred kitten. “Uh, what’re you doing?”

  

“What does it look like? I’m petting the cat.”

 

“What cat?”

  

It nuzzled his hand, and though it felt real enough, he noticed it was lightly transparent.

  

“Oh my god.” Shane gasped, “It’s a ghost cat.”

  

He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him, “There’s-- you’re petting a ghost cat?”

  

“Fuck yeah, I am.” He watched as it pushed the top of its head against his palm, so Shane took that as his cue to start scratching.  He maneuvered slightly so it would be in Ryan’s line of sight,“You really don’t see it?”

  

“No, you’re just.. playing with air.”

  

Shane looked up at him and grinned, “This is really something, huh?  I’m the one seeing ghosts and you’re not.”

  

When he swore he heard the cat start purring, the intense, eerie surroundings were completely forgotten as this cat became his entire world focus. He slowly reached both hands around it in an attempt to pick it up, and thankfully the cat didn’t seem too bothered by it. It simply continued to purr.

  

Shane wasn’t about to question how a cat even got down here because frankly he didn’t care. It was strange though; it felt weightless even though he knew he was holding it, and he could feel its fur despite it being, well.. a ghost. He got to his feet, gently scratching behind its ears. Ryan slowly stepped closer. 

 

“This.. this looks so bizarre.” Ryan mumbled but walked towards him. His eyes were trained on the space between Shane’s arms which much have looked empty. “Is it.. uh, cute?

 

“Is it _cute,_ Ryan? It’s a cat! Of course it is!”

 

The purring continued as he slowly stoked a hand down its back, so very, __very__  careful not to disturb it. It seemed content with its current situation, eyes squished closed with its tail flicking back and forth but only made a soft _murp_ sound when Ryan took another step closer. The fear had completely melted off his face.

 

And for some reason, it made Shane wonder about all the possible ghost cats he had missed out on during their investigations. He wondered if all the random noises Ryan always claimed to hear were just ghost animals trying to get their attention. This cat, like Eli, didn’t seem to realize it was dead. Maybe that was an advantage.

 

The wandering thought didn’t last long, but as soon as he zoned back in, Shane realized the cat was gone. He paused mid-pet and stared down at where it had been a moment ago, then frowned. In a blink it had vanished and he hadn’t even felt it leave -- had it jumped from his arms, or faded out completely?

 

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asked

 

“It’s gone.” there was a hint of disappointment behind his words, but decided to sigh rather than dwell on it. “Guess it didn’t like heights.”

 

“You think there’s any other ghost animals down here? Ghost mice, maybe?”

 

Shane had to think about that for a moment, then snapped his fingers, “Ghost bats.”

 

“Oh, fuck that.”

 

“Ghost squirrels. You can be with your family, Bergara.” He grinned, and moved to poke Ryan’s cheek.

 

The response was automatic, but Ryan maneuvered out of the way and attempted to swat his hand away. It was something he was used to, being shooed away after a bad joke, but lately it stung a little more when the motion went right through his ghostly form. Instead of addressing it, Ryan settled on a phrase that was like music to his ears:

 

“Shut up, Shane.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know how in eps, whenever Ryan gets overwhelmed, shane will do everything to distract him & make him laugh? thats bbfe (big best friend energy) and i love it.
> 
> also demon!shane is a good au. it may be true. its the one thing boogaras and shaniacs can agree on.


	16. XVI

* * *

 

The rest of the walk was easy, and thanks to the few pages of blueprints Ryan had ripped out of the book, so was the journey through Building C. They found the stairs easily enough, and with no obstacles or locked doors obstructing the way, made it up to the third floor which had a plaque inscribed with “Rooms 300-360”.

 

After removing the padlock, Ryan pulled open the barred cell door and Shane followed him out into the hallway. It was only a few meters wide and tall - nothing like the high-arching ceilings he was used to in the main building. There were more rooms too, dozens on either side with the same cell door and evenly spaced out.

 

A sense of familiarity struck him as he drifted through the hallway. Each room had a metal plaque on the exterior wall with a string of numbers on it. Patient 00566 & Patient 00567. Patient 00583 & Patient 00584. No names, just numbers. Not people, just _numbers._ It made him shake his head in disgust.

 

Instead, he focused on the room numbers. They were in Building C, floor three, so they just had to find room 334. Most of the rooms had two sets of bunk beds crammed into them while others were so generously given a dresser or a couple boxes. It reminded him of a college dormitory, but somehow less depressing.

  

He cleared his mind as the two stumbled upon their first crossroads, each hallway a mirror image of the one they just left. With that sense of familiarity still flowing through him, his feet automatically took a hard right and down a shorter, dead-end hallway with a large, rectangular window at the end of it.

 

Shane came to a stop in the doorway and peered inside. Just like every room before it, there was a bunk bed with a flat pillow and a thin white sheet on each with one difference. Unlike last time, he noticed that the bottom bunk had an extra white sheet, and there was another pillow in the space under the bed.

 

“This is the place.” He said

  

His eyes locked on the small, golden locket tucked half-way under the pillow. With it, came the memory that he had been able to effortlessly pick it up, but now he wasn’t so sure of his chances this time. Instead, he pointed it out to Ryan, who stepped into the small room and cautiously approached the bed

 

“Well,” Shane started, watching as he carefully picked it up and examined it, “you’re the ghost expert. What should we do?”

  

“We could burn it?” He suggested, unclasping the lock, “If It’s what shes attached to -- once its gone, she’ll be gone too.”

  

Neither said anything more; Ryan tilted his head in thought as he stared at the small photo, no doubt seeing the resemblance between the two Shanes even more clearly now. It was a personal photo and he could point out the awkwardness that would ensue if they burned it and nothing happened, but held back.

  

Shane pursed his lips, but turned to follow Ryan to the door once he pocketed the locket.

  

“I just..” he ran both hands through his hair, “I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Eli.”

  

They’d just made it to the door frame when he heard:

  

“Tell me what, Shaney?”

  

The voice almost knocked him off his feet, but he spun around, eyes immediately landing on a very confused looking Eli. She sat on the bottom bunk, hands in her lap while swinging her legs back and forth. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have assumed she had been sitting there the whole time

  

“Did she just call you Shaney?” Ryan mumbled.

  

“You heard her?”

  

“I can _see_ her.”

  

She looked between the two of them expectantly.

 

Ryan stared at him too.

 

He was known for being good at improv and being put on the spot, but a plan slipped his mind. Instead, he carefully walked over to the bed and lowered himself onto it next to her, just like the way they were before. He narrowed his eyes and decided what words to use while her bright, yet confused, eyes stared right through him.

 

“Shane?” She asked, “Is something wrong?”

 

It took a moment to register her words, because he wasn’t quite sure. There _shouldn't_ be anything wrong, but the nagging feeling in his gut proved otherwise. He looked up at Ryan for help, but he just shrugged and then awkwardly crossed his arms, eyes cast to the floor. Okay. So bullshitting it was, then.

  

“I’m just, uh.. worried about you. I bet you’re tired of being here, right? Do you wanna leave?”

  

He glanced over to meet her eyes, which widened at the words.

  

“Yes, but..” A pause. Eli fidgeted nervously, “..mother is coming back.”

  

Shane shook his head, “She’s been gone for a while, though. I think we should go find her. It’ll be like Hide-n-seek.”

  

“Hide-n-seek!” She clapped her hands together, “Yay! Okay! Is she hiding?”

  

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she’s hiding.”

  

Eli sprung off the bed so fast it made Ryan trip over his own feet attempting to move backwards, then thumped into the wall. She didn’t pay him any mind, though, because she kept her excited stare pinned on Shane as she hopped up and down on the spot. Strange how fast kids’ emotions can change.

  

“She’s back! I knew she’d come back!”

  

“Yeah,” He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Now c’mon, kiddo.”

 

 

* * *

 

The walk was long and quiet, no sounds except for the birds chirping outside and the excessive flapping from the ones trapped inside, along with Eli’s rhythmic humming. It had a strange calmness to it, one he couldn’t exactly describe - but it had a happy undertone to it unlike before. It was nice. It was hopeful.

 

Ryan lead them through the halls and back down to to the ground floor where they’d find the incinerator room. Now, why this place had a room like that, he had a pretty good feeling of, but decided not to share it with the class. Going by the expression on Ryan’s face when it was mentioned, he clearly knew its purpose too.

 

That anxious look didn’t falter when they were directed down a wide, empty corridor with a set of iron, double doors. There were three different padlocks but thankfully, two were already lying on a nearby shelf while the third easily snapped open when Ryan yanked on it. He tossed it aside and pushed the doors open.

 

There were no signs, nor text indicating what this rooms purpose was to anyone unfamiliar with it. As they stepped inside, he could tell the room was as big as at least four classrooms put together, despite the irritating lack of light sources. There were no ceiling lights, no abandoned candles, not even windows.

 

Just the two large, imposing, black furnaces with chimneys that ran up the length of the wall and into the roof above. Both paint and rust flaked off the surface which gave it a rough looking texture, along with the visible bricks jutting out from its surface. While in use, he figured they would serve as the rooms only light source.

 

As they approached, he couldn’t help but wonder what all they incinerated in there. The mouths of each were several feet wide and though both cast-iron gates remained closed on the right incinerator, he saw that the opening to the left one was deep enough to fit an entire car or something of the sorts.

 

Various machines cluttered the room, but there was a distinct, clear area around both furnaces where mounds of storage boxes entitled ‘medical waste’, garbage bags and gurneys sat. He tried not to linger that long on the last thing. If a bunch of corrupt asylum workers wanted to discreetly dispose of something, this was the right place.

 

“I don’t like this place at all,” Ryan muttered and hugged himself but continued forward, “They definitely murdered people down here.”

 

Shane eyed the pile of knocked over gurneys, “Oh, yeah. I’m sure this will explain why they could never find most of the bodies.”

 

“The death count must have been way larger than official reports. Jesus, maybe this is why there aren’t any ghosts.”

 

It was certainly a good point. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause ghosts don’t exist.”

 

The look Ryan gave made him grin uncontrollably even though he tried to maintain a poker face.

 

“You’re such a.. fuckhead.”

 

“A fuckhead?”

 

“I know what I said.”

 

He wanted to laugh, but another voice interrupted.

 

“Shaney, what’s a fuckhead?”

 

“Whoa-!” He turned to face Eli, involuntarily gasping again like a middle-aged soccer mom being told her water-and-bean casserole was sub-par. Ryan’s sudden burst of wheezy laughter behind him didn’t help. “-that’s, uh, remember what I said about adult words?”

 

“Fuck?” She said helpfully

 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Shane narrowed his eyes then glanced over his shoulder, “You gotta stop swearing, man. You’re a bad influence.”

  

“Let her say fuck, Shane. She’s earned it.”

  

That was apparently what Eli wanted to hear. She pointed directly at Shane and shouted: _“Fuck!”_

  

“Fuck _head.”_ Ryan reminded her

  

“Fuck _head!_ Fuck _head!”_

  

He rubbed his temples, eyes shut as Ryan clutched his hands to his stomach and doubled over with that breathless, wheezy laughter. Eli quietly joined in, covering her mouth while giggling at his exasperation. Shane decided it was probably best to let them have their little moment, but he rolled his eyes.

  

“No more swearing, or I’ll-” He paused, but didn’t have an immediate ending to that threat. But as he stared at Eli, something practical came to mind. “-or else I’ll tell mom.”

  

Eli gasped mid-giggle like all small children did when you brought up threat of telling their parents, so she looked away and pouted. It was a satisfying moment, especially seeing the amused expression on Ryan’s face, but it was short lived since as soon as he turned around, Eli mumbled a quiet, rebellious, __fuck__ under her breath.

  

He decided to ignore it and they both stepped back as Ryan went to work on the furnace, using a nearby fire-poker to pry open the grate and push aside whatever contents still remained inside. A plume of smoke filled the air as decades old ashes were disturbed, making Ryan cough and fan it away from his face.

  

There wasn’t much Shane could do to help, but he went in search of the control panel for either furnace. No wiring, no switches or knobs, not even a big, ominous on/off lever that you’d see in a Disney movie. He frowned, then turned around to see that Ryan had removed the contents of a cardboard box and threw it inside. 

 

He went around collecting slabs of wood, chucking anything that could burn into the waiting furnace. Huh. It seemed that they were going to do this the old fashioned way, so Shane moved around in search of a convenient box of matches or even a lighter. What he found instead, was a couple canisters of gasoline.

 

“Those could be useful,” Ryan said from behind him, so he stepped aside to let him pick up the canisters, “I just hope we don’t burn this place to the ground in the process.”

 

“It might be for the best.”

 

“Maybe. But let’s just do our best to _not_  do that.”

 

He raised his hands in surrender, “Hey, you’re the only one with working hands here, don’t look at me.”

 

“Funny, since my hands did all of the work even when you were still alive.”

 

Hearing the sound of Shane’s overly-dramatic gasp, Ryan smirked and promptly turned away.

 

“Do you plan on taking yourself out too in a giant explosion?” He teased, walking after Ryan. “There probably aren’t matches down here.”

 

“I’ll think of something,” Ryan assured him, politely stepping out of Eli’s way. “There’s a reason I’m the smartest of the ghoul-boys.

 

“Now that’s debatable.” Shane tapped a finger to his temple, “There’s also a reason this noggin is so big. It’s full of knowledge.”

 

The response was an eye roll. “I thought it was to fit your massive ego.”

 

“I have room to spare.”

  

“You’re so dumb, and just proving my point.”

  

“Brains or beauty, Ryan, pick one. You can’t have both.”

  

“Why not? You don’t have either so I might as well.”

  

Shane sighed, “Alright, damn. Go see if all that brain of yours can figure out a way to start a fire.”

  

“Watch and learn, big guy.”

  

Ryan examined the metal fire-poker then squinted his eyes as the gears in his head started to turn. He glanced back up at the furnace, down at the rod, then back up at the machine. Something was going on in that squirrel-like head of his, and before Shane could ask, Ryan raised the rod and brought it down with force.

  

The metal rod skirted against the puddle of gasoline, creating a few sparks of metal against metal, but nothing significant happened. It was when Ryan raised it again that Shane understood the plan; he watched as the other brought it down two more times before a spark caught and the gasoline ignited into flames.

  

Here comes the gloating. “Alright, let’s hear that ‘I told you so’. I’m a big boy, I can take it.”

  

Ryan turned around with a triumphant smile, “I _told you so.”_

  

“You did,” He rolled his eyes, “and I don’t know why I don’t listen to you more often. You’re so smart.”

  

“Laugh it up, dickhead, this feels great. I’m living in my truth right now.”

  

“Ryan, you started a fire.” 

 

“With gasoline and a stick!”

 

“With gasoline and a _stick_. The cavemen did it better.”

 

“What caveman had gasoline? I’d like to see those fuckers from the year three and a half try to outsmart me.”

 

Shane laughed but the conversation dropped as the cackling blaze got louder behind them, so Ryan backed away from it as a decent sized fire took hold in the furnace, quickly consuming everything that had been tossed inside. One thing he noticed, is that he couldn’t feel its heat even standing two feet away.

 

“It burns brighter than your love for the Hot Daga, eh, Bergara?” Shane teased instead of dwelling on it.

 

He had been expecting an eye roll, a sarcastic remark or even no response at all, but instead, Ryan simply glanced over at him with a small, yet tender smile. The orange light illuminated the side of his face, casting a soft glow over all of his features that Shane stared at for a few moments too long.

 

“You’re an idiot,” He sighed, “But-” A pause as he caught himself from finishing that thought. He started up a completely new one instead, “Maybe you should talk to her. Y’know, about what’s gonna happen.”

 

Shane stared at him for a second, then over at Eli who silently stood next to a pile of boxes. She was barely illuminated by the light of the flames, but he could still see how her head was cocked to the side, staring intently at Ryan. She’d always seemed.. interested in him, to say the least, but he wasn’t sure why.

 

“Hey, kiddo.” He forced a smile and hoped she didn’t see right though it, then took a seat on the ground next to her. Even sitting straight up, she was only barely taller so he didn’t have to look up that far. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?”

 

“Okay.” She replied, but finally tore her eyes off Ryan. “Am I in trouble? You’re using that voice!”

 

“No, of course not. You’re not in trouble, Eli, I promise. It’s, um.. about mom.”

 

 Her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, “You found her?”

 

“Sort of. Ryan and I think - uh, we know how to get you back to her. But you’ll have to go without me.”

 

“Why? You said we’d always be together! You said-”

 

“Eli,” He tried again, shifting his whole body towards her. “You trust me, right?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I know it sounds scary, but you have to trust me. We wanna get you home. You’ve been here too long.”

 

“..I wanna go home.” She repeated longingly.

 

“And I-” He paused, “-I, uh, can’t.”

 

He waited for her to object, to start throwing a fit and protesting whatever plan they prepared, but she didn’t. Instead, Eli’s eyes moved to stare at something over his shoulder and her expression changed to something more gentle, yet thoughtful. It was a few more moments until she finally found her voice again.

 

“You wanna stay with Ryan.” She met his eyes again, and surprisingly her voice lacked disappointment or anger.

 

No point in lying. “Yeah.”

 

And then she did something he didn’t expect -- she smiled.

 

He frowned. “What?”

 

“Can I tell you a secret, Shaney?” She suddenly lowered her voice to a whisper.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Eli peered back over his shoulder -- over at Ryan, but his back was to them. He was definitely out of earshot, but she still leaned in slightly closer.

 

“I think he like-likes you.”

 

Shane sputtered. “Wh-what?”

 

It was a serious nod, like she had never been more sure of anything in her life but gave him a quizzical look upon seeing his reaction. No doubt, she didn’t understand the implications of what she was saying, but Shane forced himself to look away from those soft eyes and that big-hearted smile that instantly returned.

 

“He smiles at you all the time,” She insisted, “The same way mother smiled at father.”

 

Shane was sure it was just his imagination, but his face felt warm.

 

“Okay, kiddo.” He cleared his throat loud enough for Ryan to glance over but didn’t look up to meet his friends stare. “Good talk.”

 

“Do you like-like him?”

 

“I-”

 

“Hey, Shane?” Ryan interrupted a train of thought that would have made his brain malfunction. “I think it’s ready.”

 

Thankful for the excuse to duck out of that conversation, Shane shot to his feet and needlessly brushed the non-existent dust off his pants before heading back to the furnace. Ryan stared at him with a strange expression and slightly narrowed eyes, but decided to shake his head instead of saying something.

 

“I think she’s okay with it.” Shane came to a stop next to him, “I hope this works.”

 

“Me too.” Ryan nodded and glanced down to the metal locket now being held with both hands.

  

For a few seconds, there was no sound but the cracking fire so they both just stood there staring absently into it. It seemed like an hour of contemplation before Ryan stepped forward and tossed the necklace into the waiting flames, then quickly moved back as it sent out another plume of both sparks and ash.

  

Shane turned around and smiled at Eli, though the warmth of it didn’t quite reach the crinkle of his eyes. Her smile was just as warm, but more confused as she likely tried to process what was happening. He could see the question written all over her face, but he wasn’t sure if he’d have the time to explain it.

  

He knelt to the ground just as she quickly, and without warning, launched forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pressed into him tightly, and Shane wasn’t quite sure how to react to the unexpected hug. With a million other things on his mind, his brain immediately blanked.

  

“I love you, Shaney.” She whispered, then nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. “I’ll miss you!”

  

He looked over at Ryan who seemed just as bewildered.

  

“Yeah, kiddo..” He mumbled, and slowly put one arm around her small frame. She wasn’t solid, but definitely wasn’t _not_  solid either. “..yeah, I’ll miss you too.”

  

The hug lasted several seconds before she finally pulled away and gave him a big smile, which he automatically returned. There was no way of knowing if she knew what was about to happen or why she was saying goodbye, but she didn’t question it any further. Finally, she turned away from him.

  

How long gold took to melt, he had no idea, but could guess they didn’t have much time left, so the only thing he could do was wait. He noticed that after turning away from him, Eli’s eyes locked on Ryan who stood several feet away from them after moving farther away form the fire. She held out her arms and slowly approached him.

  

The hesitation was expected, but Ryan reluctantly obliged. He slowly lowered himself down to one knee in front of her, but his wide eyes found Shane as she shuffled closer. The encouraging thumbs up did little to sooth the anxious expression on his face, and he still tensed when Eli wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  

Or well, tried to. Shane could tell by his shiver that her ghostly form merged into him for the duration, but neither said anything about it. His hands were clenched into fists, one pressing into his knee while the other steadied himself on the ground. He -- although understandably-- made no move to hug her back.

  

Then, she moved her head in a way that indicated she might be whispering into his ear. It only lasted five seconds or so, but the look on Ryan’s face didn’t change. He seemed like he just wanted the hug to end so he could hyperventilate in peace -- it was a real wonder how he hadn’t done it already.

  

Eli stepped back, hands resting on his shoulders for a few more moments but only pulled away completely once he nodded. What that was about, he’d have to ask once they got out of this place, but Ryan hadn’t seemed too shaken by whatever she said. He decided to push it to the back of his mind for now.

  

With no more words being spoken, she walked back and plopped down next to Shane in front of the fire, hands in her lap. She looked peaceful. More calm than he had ever seen her. With that in mind, he decided to stay there while he shifted into a more comfortable position. All they could do now was wait.

  

Shane closed his eyes but the flames still cast a soft orange light against his eye-lids; it was oddly relaxing, and if he focused hard enough, he could pretend they were in front of a camp fire. The last time he went camping, he’d drunkenly thrown a whole bag of marsh mellows into the fire to create the ultimate s’more.

 

Oh, god, s’mores.

 

If his bodily functions still worked, he figured his stomach would have rumbled at the tasty memory.

  

But his mind still worked, and it reminded him about the reality of his current situation, so he opened his eyes with a heavy sigh. When he got out of here, he’d have to add s’mores to the growing list of things he missed. They’d be somewhere below being able to pick things up, but a few bullet points above sleep.

  

_Priorities, Madej. We should probably work on those._

__ __

Though, he could confidently say cats were above sleep on that list.

  

_Yeah, definitely need to work on those._

  

He sighed and figured she could probably talk about something more worthwhile, but he turned his head and--

 

Eli wasn’t there anymore.

 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but instantly became hyper-aware it was just the two of them now.

 

Shane twisted around and saw Ryan in the same spot as before, but sat hunched over on a couple of boxes. His eyes were narrowed and focused, completely unaware of Shane watching him. He stared at his hands, but Shane realized he was toying with the coin that seemed to be their equivalent of the necklace.

 

_That’s all it takes, Madej. Just a little fire._

__

Just a little fire. Burn the coin, and the same thing happens.

 

There was another short period of silence while Shane contemplated something he didn’t want to think about, but in the middle of it, Ryan looked at him thoughtfully. In doing so, he noticed Shane was staring at the coin. His expression immediately became defensive as he shoved it back in his pocket.

 

“No. We’re not talking about this.”

 

“Ryan, we have to eventu-”

 

 _“No.”_ He said again, more forcefully. Ryan got to his feet and avoided his stare, “Just, no. We’re getting you out of here.”

 

 _And then what?_ He wanted to ask

  

“Okay.” Is what came out instead.

  

Ryan raked a hand through his hair, mumbled something incoherent about getting the hell out of there and made a bee-line towards the door, while Shane rose to his feet. He lingered for a moment, then glanced between the spot Eli had once been and the fire. He pursed his lips but decided it wasn’t worth it.

 

He could leave now.

 

He was going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps the top of shanes head* this man can fit so many angsty plot devices inside him


	17. XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things before we get started:
> 
> 1) I wrote this one while listening to Hozier. I'm so sorry in advance. (I really do mean it, Nora.)
> 
> 2) I appreciate all your theories on how this is all gonna end, but none of you have quite hit the nail on the head yet. Some of you are close.
> 
> 3) This isn't the final chapter, despite how it ends (again, im SO sorry lol). I'd say its about... 75% done, though.
> 
> Enjoy! Please don't dismember me!

* * *

 

Shane was quiet as the two navigated their way back to the main entrance, retracing their route back through familiar territory. He felt like he was drifting rather than walking, with the sweet, euphoric, promise of freedom pulling him along. Almost. He was almost there. Just a little further.. 

 

And as happy as the thought made him, that dull sense of guilt still lingered. He was getting out, but what about Eli? Sure, they had presumably freed her but what came after? Did she go to an afterlife? Did she get re-united with her family? Or did her soul just dissolve into the bleak, empty nothingness?

 

It only added to the weight Shane felt - what would happen to him? Yeah, he was getting out of the Asylum, but that was just moving his problem to another location. It was delaying the inevitable, and the exhausting conversation he and Ryan would have to have eventually. When was a good time to bring that up?

 

Not now. Not with Ryan still walking a few paces faster and actively making an effort _not_ to speak, and any attempt would only be met with a defensive attitude. Still, he couldn’t blame Ryan.. it was a touchy subject, and in all honestly, Shane didn’t want to talk about it either despite it’s grave importance.

 

So he walked in a trance-like state through the empty Asylum halls until they reached the main lobby.

 

And as he crossed through the threshold of the Asylum, he held his breath. There weren’t any invisible barriers or befriended ghost children to stop him this time, but he still tensed like something else could happen at any second. It was from experience he knew that if anything _could_ go wrong, it _will_ go wrong.

 

His pace only faltered when he reached the stairs; he walked father than he had gotten last time, and the sunlight hit him after coming out of the shaded entrance way which nearly knocked him off his feet. It was a phantom feeling, he supposed, but he could have sworn he felt the warmth against his skin.

 

Shane made it to the bottom of the steps before his willpower faded and his feet stopped working, along with his mind and all other useful functions. The indecipherable feeling overtook his shattered, crippled mind as he stared up at the sky - up at the _sun _,__  which enveloped his ghostly form like a blanket.

 

Swimming in the middle of a pale blue sky, it was still high above them without a single cloud to hide behind. It should have been a regular sunny day, but it wasn’t. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even _blink_  even though squinted eyes. His body didn’t want to do anything but stare, dumbfounded.

 

God, he was out. He was out for real, this time, and for good.

 

So why did it still hurt so much?

 

“..Shane?” Ryan’s voice was soft, breaking him from his trance. “You doing okay?”

 

Shane realized his vision was blurry, and though the logical part of his mind argued that staring at the sun for too long causes blindness, he quickly understood that wasn’t the case. Of course not. It was something different, something he didn’t want to deal with. He blinked, and found his eyes were wet.

 

“Shane, hey..” Ryan tried again,

 

He wanted to respond. He wanted to re-assure Ryan he was fine, wanted to do anything at all besides stand there like an idiot.

 

“Maybe you should sit. It must be a lot to take in.”

 

_Say something, Madej._

__

“C’mon, big guy, you’re flickering.”

 

_Say something you fucking idiot._

__

He opened his mouth and hoped the right words would just tumble out, but no such luck. Instead, a pained noise escaped his throat, but he wasn’t focused enough to determine if it had been an actual word or not. But judging from the continued alarmed expression on Ryan’s face, it definitely hadn’t been.

 

Still, he managed to tear his gaze away from the welcoming sunlight despite the urge to stare at it until his eyeballs dried up and fell out of their sockets (could that happen as a ghost? Could that even happen to a living person?). He focused his remaining energy on taking Ryan’s advice to sit on the steps.

 

Ryan instantly sat next to him, hands awkwardly hovering in the space between them like he wanted to put a reassuring arm around Shane’s shoulder but knew he couldn’t. Shane stared down at his own hands, almost completely transparent now as his form flickered in and out like a broken street lamp.

 

“Shane, hey..” He tried again. “..just focus, okay? Just breathe.”

 

His eyes were still wet, and felt a few drops fall the next time he blinked.

 

“This sucks that I can’t-” Ryan reached out to put a hand on his knee, then stopped himself. “-that I can’t do.. anything to help.”

 

Shane clenched his hands into fists over and over for the next few minutes, but the aching feeling didn’t go away.

 

_Say something._

 

“I’m sorry,” Shane wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Embarrassment was another prominent emotion he felt at the current moment, and hated it. “I’m not-- I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s -- this is stupid.”

 

Ryan wouldn’t stop looking at him like _that _.__ With pity. With mirroring sadness. “It’s understandable, Shane. You’ve been trapped in the dark for months. I understand.”

  

He let out a shaky breath, “I don’t even know why- I don’t know _how_  I’m even fucking crying. I’m- I’m a fucking ghost, I don’t have any water in me, and I don’t.. it doesn't make sense logically-”

 

“Shane-”

 

“I’ve got no water!” He practically cried out, too delirious to feel stupid about it. “I’ve got no water in me, Ryan, and here I am, crying like a fucking baby ‘cause of- just ‘cause of the damn sun.” He forced himself to laugh but it sounded breathless, “I’ve got water. Can I-- does that mean I can piss? Can I take a ghost piss, Ryan?”

 

He wasn’t sure if his malfunctioning brain had tried to make a joke or was asking a serious question. God, what was going on? What was wrong with him? Why was he acting like this? Jokes were supposed to be his defense against stuff like this, and so far none of them landed.

  

“I’m sure you can test out out that theory later,” Ryan thankfully humored him for the moment.

 

It felt like a migraine which both didn’t make sense, and was so incredibly unfortunate. Wasn’t that supposed to be a plus to being dead? No more pain, no more side effects that came with being alive? He knew vanishing would solve the current problem, but he also didn’t _want_ to vanish into that nothingness.

 

So he tried to hold on.

 

“Maybe we should, uh- maybe you should try and get in the car, Shane. Getting out of here might stabilize you..”

 

Shane lifted his head to stare at Ryan’s car that only sat six or seven meters away, but it was so, __so__  hard to focus on.

  

“Listen, Ry, I’m-” His voice was hoarse, scratchy like he was suddenly dehydrated. “-I’m just.. don’t wait around for me if I ghost out, alright?” He squeezed his eyes shut, “Just get in your car and drive, I don’t wanna be here when I re-appear.”

 

Ryan said something in response, but he couldn’t hear it. Everything was suddenly out of focus, so he knew he had no choice.

 

“See ya’ soon, Bergara..” He mumbled.

 

He stopped trying to hold on, and vanished just as fast. 

 

* * *

 

 

The darkness returned at full force

 

He was lucid this time, more aware of his surroundings than he had ever been before. It was the same as last time; a vast emptiness, a chilling numbness and a floating sensation. The numbness subdued his wandering thoughts and excessive emotions, leaving him feeling nothing but calmness amid it all.

 

No body, no senses, no nothing. Just a consciousness drifting through whatever state this was. It was starting to almost feel welcoming. The only thing left were his memories and everything associated with them - the void couldn’t take those away. Not again.

 

So, he focused.

 

This was temporary. He knew that. His emotions had gotten the best of him, overwhelmed him to the breaking point, and he let that wave crash down on him and pull him under. This was a nice change. It was better. No outside, unnecessary emotions to influence his clear, rational thinking. He could function properly.

 

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, a quiet voice tried to insist that was bad. It was ignored.

 

This was the part where he’d start trying to find a way to leave this place. Right.

 

But he didn’t.

 

He could have started fighting his way back to the world of the living - back to _Ryan_  - but now that he was thinking clearly, the questions, the _what ifs_  started to flood his mind.

 

What if __this__  was the afterlife?

 

What if there was more to this, what if all he had to do was he wait to find out?

 

What if he _stayed?_

__

Could he?

 

Did he want to?

 

With the part of his mind deciding to ignore emotions under lock and key, he could finally think about that question.

 

He was dead. He had to face the facts. He was dead, and there was no coming back from that. He’d never get eat, sleep, talk to family members or make new friends, travel the world or get drunk and make stupid decisions. He’d never get to do any of that in his spectral form, and the thought should have hurt.

 

He could ignore it all he wanted, but he was _dead._ There was no way around it. Dead. Dead. Dead. There was only so much he could do as a ghost, and it was only a matter of time before he became one of those wayward spirits, unable to make sense of anything. He didn’t want to have to experience that.

 

So, what’s next? He circled back around to the initial ‘what if’ and gave it more thought. If this was the afterlife, and he was in some sort of waiting room, what if he simply.. waited? What if he didn’t fight back against the current and let it drag him under? What if that force was actually trying to help him?

 

It was a comforting thought. That tiny voice in the back of his mind disagreed.

 

He ignored it again.

 

So, he focused on the body he didn’t have and allowed himself to relax, both physically and mentally. Focused on the eyes, and imagined closing them even though the darkness around him didn’t change shades. Though he wasn’t breathing, he focused on that too, and tried to bring it to a slow pace.

 

Wait. It was all he had to do. Just wait. The nervousness of not knowing what would happen if he waited too long was quickly subdued and he let it happen. No more emotions. They got in the way. They kept trying to tell him this was a bad idea, that something was wrong. But, he knew what was best for himself.

 

 

relax..

 

 

 

(it’s fine)

 

 

 

..just relax..

 

 

All at once, it felt like that moment before sleep. The state of total relaxation where your mind just shuts off, like a heavy blanket settling across his body. Just like sleep, where his thoughts slowly, so very slowly, ceased to exist and that voice in his head became completely silent.

 

..and he felt..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

anxious

 

 

then he stopped feeling anxious

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so..

 

 

he felt so..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

so..

 

 

 

 

 

calm..

 

 

 

 

 

like he was drifting off

 

 

He felt so..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(wait.)

 

 

 

tired

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

then he stopped feeling tired

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He felt so..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..so..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…felt so..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

nothing

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(wait, this isn’t right.)

 

(no.)

 

 

 

 

 

..he felt nothing at all

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(this isnt-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then he was nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shane.exe has stopped responding


	18. XVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments on the last chapter captured the exact reaction I was expecting, so thank you. And a special shout out to my friends on the discord server who now want me dead. This ones for u guys.

* * *

 

For a long time, there was nothing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(somethings wrong.)

 

 

Nothing at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(This isn’t right.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(where am I?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(what’s going on?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(what’s happening?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No senses, no feeling, just darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(help me.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(someone help me. Please.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(please.)

 

 

 

 

Absolute

 

 

 

Total

 

 

 

Nothingness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(thats right. I have to-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(i have to-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(what do I have to do?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And faintly, so very, very faintly - in the deepest, darkest corner of the pulsating void - a voice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(ryan?)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing. There should have been nothing at all, but it echoed out again, it reached out stronger than before.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(ryan!)

 

The darkness suddenly felt lighter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(how did I get here? How do I-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(i need to get back to-)

 

 

 

It loosened its grip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(focus, shane, focus)

 

 

 

(just focus. think about-)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The numbness faded. It felt.. warm. It felt real again.

 

(yeah. yeah, suck my dick, im getting out of here. fuck you)

 

 

 

Memories returned. Emotions returned.

 

And that was all he needed.

 

* * *

 

 

Shane re-appeared but nearly vanished just as fast.

 

He was flung from the darkness harder than before, so fast it took all his senses a few seconds to catch up with him even though he was already standing on solid ground. He was already _somewhere._ Somewhere real, somewhere with colour, somewhere.. _different._

 

It was instantaneous. The second he opened his eyes, an alarm went off in his brain alerting him that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be - somewhere drastically different than where he left off. Not the Asylum, not the darkness, but somewhere he hadn’t been in what felt like a million years.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax but it was a difficult task. He felt strained. Exhausted. He was trembling with a fear he hadn’t felt since the day he woke up, or since that day he finally broke down and cried. Even now, he felt like he was on the verge of sobbing.

 

The darkness had been different that time. So undeniably calm. Palpable. Terrifying. It didn’t try to force him under, but once he willingly submitted, it gripped on tight and didn’t let go. He had ceased to exist. He had stopped __existing,__ and the thought was absolutely nauseating. He didn’t want to go back.

 

_Focus, Madej, Focus. And then open your eyes._

__

Shane wasn’t sure he knew _how_ to. He didn’t have to see himself to know he must have been flickering wildly, completely unstable as his emotions threatened to push him into a complete mental collapse. He couldn’t stop _shaking_ and the thought of ending back where he had just escaped from made it worse.

 

_Just open your eyes._

 

After a solid ten seconds to make sure he was fully stabilized, Shane did just that and sucked in a deep breath. Okay. _Okay._ So far so good. Everything was blurry at first as his vision slowly came into focus, but there was sunlight. _Sunlight._ He could have burst into tears right then and there but held it together.

 

His surroundings _were_ different than what he was used to. No long, dark hallways. No old, dilapidated walls or floors threatening to break under his weight. He was in a living room. A small, very familiar living room, one he had passed out in too many times after one too many drunken night outs with Ryan.

 

But.. he knew the type of person Ryan was: Particular, neat, organized, and the current state of his apartment reflected none of that. The man would spend an hour re-arranging his basketball jerseys to be colour coordinated or end up vacuuming the entire apartment because a few specs of dust caught his eye.

 

From what he could see, every inch of the kitchen counters were covered in dishes, which overflowed from the neglected sink. Among the mess were countless knocked over beer bottles, fast food take-out bags (that part worried Shane the most), random wrappers, and a stressful amount of empty cereal bar boxes.

 

There was a garbage bag sitting next to the door, and regardless of how long it had been sitting there, Shane figured it probably didn’t smell the greatest. Aside from that, most of the garbage in the living room seemed to be contained say for the few amazon boxes piled up in the corner closest to the balcony doors.

 

Shane frowned, but reminded himself to move.

 

There were mismatched socks lying in the hallway as he walked down it, and shuddered to think of the state Ryan’s room must be in. But first, he peered into the bathroom, pleasantly surprised to see it seemed to be the cleanest room so far, completely safe from the war zone that was Ryan Bergara’s apartment.

 

The door to Ryan’s bedroom was wide open, so he stepped inside and surveyed the scene. The bed wasn’t made, his laundry basket overflowed from where it sat in the corner, while more garbage wrappers and empty beer bottles were scattered across the floor. More alarming yet, was the open closet.

 

He knew Ryan took great pride in those basketball jerseys of his, but found it worrying to see most of them were carelessly shoved into the top shelf or even sitting on the floor inside it. Hanging from the racks instead, were several bland looking hoodies and some winter coats. Comfort clothes, he called them.

 

He made his way back to look for any indication of where Ryan might be or to find out what day it was. How long had he been gone? How much time had passed between then and now? Shane intended to find out, so he headed into the kitchen. It wasn’t much, but the clock on the microwave read 2:23 PM.

 

_What day? What day was it? How long had he been gone?_

 

Shane glanced down at the kitchen table and noticed it bare except for a few empty bottles, a piece of notebook paper and the quarter resting on the top right corner of the page. He blinked in surprise, but stepped forward to take a closer look at the paper that was covered with Ryan’s familiar handwriting. It read:

 

_Shane-_

_It’s ~~November 1,Nov 2, Nov 3,~~  Nov ~~5, 6, 7,~~  8_

_It’s been ~~a few days~~_

_~~almost a week~~ nearly two weeks. Im worried about you dude._

 

_If you’re reading this, I’m probably out for a bit. Or its the middle of the night and Im_

_sleeping and you better NOT pull some freaky ghost shit._

_Either way, ~~I miss you so hurry up and~~ ~~~~_

_please try to stay conscious until I can see u again._

_I need to know it worked._

__

 

Shane let out a heavy sigh, with a smile twitching on his lips. He’d have to keep that ‘freaky ghost shit’ in mind, maybe knock over a couple of bottles in the dead of night. Maybe it was a good thing Ryan never had a cat -- he’d keep himself up all night playing a mind game called “oh god was that a cat or a ghost?”

 

He decided it was probably best to hold off on that for now, though, until Ryan got used to the idea of having an actual ghost in his apartment. He moved away and out of the kitchen, back to the living room where he remained for the next five minutes or so trying to clean up even the smallest mess.

 

Since he couldn’t pick up physical things, he gave up on that effort and settled on motivating Ryan into cleaning later on. From where he sat on the couch, Shane anxiously toyed with his fingers and listened to the soft ticking to a wall clock he couldn’t see. It was somewhat soothing, but the feeling didn’t last long.

 

He had calmed down a considerable amount since returning from the void, but the nervousness and underlying fear still tugged at his heartstrings. God, he needed to get out of his own head and think about something else, so he quickly got to his feet and headed for the sliding doors leading out to the balcony.

 

When he was alive, it wouldn’t have been that big of a deal. He was on the tenth floor in the middle of LA, so his view was met with more high-rise skyscrapers, but as he stared down at the busy streets way below, he felt at ease. There was so much happening in the city, so much noise, so much activity.

 

And god, he never knew he could have missed it all so much.

 

He watched at least six different traffic jams begin and dissolve, a few firetrucks try and fail to navigate the busy streets, and about a dozen cop cars whiz through with ease. A minor accident involving three cars blocked off one street, and three police cars arrived after two people involved got out to start a fight.

 

He could hear the sirens, the blaring car horns and alarms, the screeching of tires that belonged to cars that probably needed their brakes checked, and dozens of other sounds lost within the chaos of it all. Somewhere above him, he could hear someone practicing their electric guitar. They weren’t great.

 

A door to his right slid open so he glanced over as a middle-aged woman stepped out into her balcony, cigarette in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. She wore nothing but Sponge-bob pajama pants and a bra, so Shane promptly looked away as she began coughing so hard she probably dislodged a lung.

 

He focused on the city again and allowed himself to zone out as he entered the calmest state he’d ever been in.

 

How long he stood there, just staring, there was no way of knowing but the lady next door had fallen asleep on her patio chair and snored loud enough to shake him from his thoughts.

 

And almost on cue, behind him, the glass doors slid open and was followed with a quiet: “Shane?”

 

It took him a second to register that, but he peered over his shoulder. “Hey.”

 

Relief visibly flashed in Ryan’s eyes as he stepped out onto the balcony

 

“Are you.. back, uh, for real this time?”

 

“..for real?”

 

“You don’t remember?”

 

The blank look on Shane’s face must have have clued him in right away, because the confusion on his face mirrored how Shane felt. Though, instead of replying right away, Ryan glanced over at the city skyline while toying with his fingers. It was impossible to decipher what he could possibly be thinking about.

  

“There’d be brief moments where you just flickered in and out of existence, but you looked like you were in pain.” Ryan had since moved to stand next to him, “And then other days you’d just pace around the living room for a couple seconds but you seemed completely catatonic. It’s like you weren’t even there.”

 

Shane isn’t sure he can handle many more bursts of pure confusion, but somehow manages to hold himself together long enough to explain everything. Or well, tried to. Even now, with how raw and terrifying the void was, the experience was fading from his mind similar to a way a dream did once waking up.

 

Still, he told Ryan all of it. _Most_ of it. He couldn’t find the right words to describe the void besides it being a vast, desolate nothingness, so he explained what its like to be there, instead. Even though he had lengthy pauses and stuttered his way through when details were fuzzy, Ryan still listened with intense curiosity.

  

“That’s so bizarre.” He murmured, deep in thought.

 

Shane could practically hear the gears in his head turning. He’s beyond interested in all of it, and Shane knows its partially, if not mostly, because he’s probably the only one on earth now with this kind of knowledge. Not everyone can say their best friend is a ghost whose been to a potential afterlife.

 

“You’re telling me..”

 

There’s another bout of silence before Ryan asked: “What brings you back? What’s your anchor?”

 

 _You, idiot._ Is what he thinks.

 

“Pizza.” Is what he says instead, “Just the smell of a Domino's could pull me out of the deepest coma. I was craving pizza before I died, so that’s probably the real reason I’m stuck here.”

 

Ryan stared at him for a moment, lips pursed like he was deciding to call Shane out on the obvious deflection. The unreadable expression only remained a few seconds longer before he sighed, smiled, and shook his head.

 

“So, all we have to do is get you some good, fresh pizza and you’ll ascend from the mortal plane?”

 

“Yup. But, to be fair, that happened even when I was alive.”

 

They both share a laugh, though there’s not much humor in it. They both have other things on their minds, and Shane’s not sure how much longer he can deflect until Ryan decides to call out his bullshit, but he intends to try for as long as possible. He can keep it all buried forever and never talk about it. He’s good at that.

 

“Your place is uncharacteristically messy.” Shane pointed out, eager to stop thinking about how guilty that makes him feel. It’s not much for conversation, but he tries.

 

“Oh, you know, depression and all that.” Ryan goes for a smile but it doesn't quite stick.

 

He's not sure how to respond to that.

  

“Sorry,” Ryan immediately backtracked, “That sounded really bitter.”

 

“No, I get it. I understand.” He replied but looked away. “It’s mainly my fault, anyway.”

 

“Shane-”

 

“If I were still alive, your basketball jerseys would be on the hangers, encased in glass, where they belong and not on the floor. Those poor, _poor,_ jerseys, Ryan.”

 

He could tell by the downcast expression on Ryan’s face that joke didn’t land either.

 

“We should go inside.” He was eager to change the subject again.

 

“Right.” Ryan responded, then turned to step back into the apartment.  He peered over his shoulder. “I can tell you about my fascinating daily life.

 

Shane snorted, “Yeah, tell me all about it. I’m so horny for details about your domestic life.”

 

“Well, I mean I managed to get _some_ laundry done, but-”

 

“Oh, _fuck,_ Ryan, I love it when you talk dirty.”

 

Unable to complete his train of thought, Ryan wheezed out something resembling a laugh but also tried to comment on how he was an idiot as Shane headed to the kitchen. He peered at the clock as Ryan collected himself in the other room, which read 5:54 PM. Talk about time flying when you’re not paying attention.

 

“But anyway,” Ryan cut in from behind him. “I can, like.. talk about the last several days if that’ll keep you calm.. and here.”

 

He turned to face the other,

 

“Oh, I can’t wait. Let’s get this party started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miscommunication as a plot device is AWFUL and im so sorry for using it so much


	19. XIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things:
> 
> -This is essentially filler, while I try to make the next few just right. I've been planning them out since the beginning.
> 
> -There's only about 3-4 chapters left, and they WILL be the hard hitting, heavy stuff. oof
> 
> -I wanted to give some fluff before all that. If you're here reading this on v-day, cheers bro, I'll drink to that.

* * *

 

The next week came and went, and Shane could almost let himself believe things went back to normal.

 

It took some doing, but he managed to coerce Ryan into doing some housework. All he could offer was motivational speeches and promises not to do ‘freaky ghost shit’ at night, but in that time Ryan was able to clean both the kitchen and living room, even though it was clear he didn’t have the motivation.

 

He knew depression didn’t just _go away._ There’d be times during the day where Ryan would seem to just burn out even after something as simple as re-arranging his coffee table, and his ‘quick naps’ turned into a four hour snooze fest. He’d take an hour long shower. He’d eat a whole bunch at once or nothing at all.

 

But he helped. Shane sat and watched TV with him, or hovered nearby when Ryan worked on something on his laptop, because he knew Ryan enjoyed the company. He critiqued Ryan’s cooking skills the mornings he decided to make breakfast, which always got them both laughing and joking around like old times.

 

Another thing, Ryan didn’t leave his apartment much. But, the days he did, he shoved the coin in his pocket and brought Shane along for the ride, even if it was for something as simple as grocery shopping. For company, sure, but he also seemed to know how much Shane enjoyed the outside world.

 

They never ran into anyone they knew.

 

It was mutually agreed upon that actively seeking out co-workers or family was a no-go. Shane didn’t want to re-open old wounds, especially if they had all moved on by now. And he knew Ryan, of all people, showing up and claiming to see and talk to Shane’s ghost would only make things much worse.

 

So they didn’t talk about it. Ryan kept it to himself, and it made things easier.

 

They ended up somewhere downtown amid a cluster of high-rise skyscrapers, sitting on the edge of a large stone fountain in the middle of a wide courtyard. It was spacious enough for food vendors and clusters of trees that had the odd person sitting peacefully under them or well maintained flowerbeds.

 

“I wonder how many of these people are ghosts.” Shane said, first to initiate conversation since they left the apartment. “Statistically speaking, there’s gotta be at least one.”

 

There were dozens of suit wearing business folk walking around, talking on their phones or sitting eating lunch from one of the dozens of benches. Another handful of casual clothed pedestrians aimlessly loitering with friends or painfully obvious tourists taking a million pictures a minute.

 

“It’s like playing Wheres Waldo but you’re the only one who can see him.” Ryan grumbled, and shoved a french fry in his mouth.

 

“I could start listing off the people I see, and you can check if you see them too?”

 

Ryan snorted, “And look like an assassin scoping for his victim? No, thank you.”

 

“Look-” Shane gestured for him to turn around and pointed at his reflection in the water, “-Do you see him? That goofy looking one? The guy who thinks ghosts are real?”

 

He sighed. “I see a handsome dude whose always right about everything and everyone should listen to him all the time.”

 

“Where? That’s impossible. I don’t have a reflection.”

 

“You know what, Shane?”

 

Even as Ryan was talking, Shane couldn’t help but notice the few people nearby that kept sneaking glances over at them. Their expressions were more confused than anything, considering Ryan was using his hands to talk and angled towards him. To an outsider, it would have looked like he walk talking to, well, a ghost.

 

“Ryan.” He interrupted and the other stopped in his tracks, “Take out your phone. Pretend you’re talking on it so people stop staring at you like a weirdo.”

 

Smooth as ever, Ryan immediately looked over his shoulder but the ones who were watching had already turned away.

 

“Oh, wow, I uhh.. didn’t even think about what this-” He gestured between them while taking out his phone, “-would look like to other people. Guess they think I’m crazy.”

 

“Nothing new then, eh, Bergara?”

 

“Shut up, Shane.” He rolled his eyes, but held the phone up to his ear which seemed to satisfy the last of the nosy onlookers. “Yes, hello? Is this clown school? I think one of your students escaped.”

 

“Clown school? Wow, you really are the pinnacle of comedy. You gonna put that one on a tee shirt?”

 

Ryan chucked a french fry at him, then looked away sheepishly when it went right through and nearly hit the aggressive looking business man sitting to their right. Thankfully, the man didn’t seem to notice but that didn’t stop Shane from trying to get his attention, loudly declaring that Ryan tried to assault him.

 

They spent another hour in the square, talking, joking, but really, it was just Shane stalling for time. The fresh air and social interaction (even if he didn’t talk to anyone else) was good for Ryan, and Shane hoped it would make him feel even a _little_ better.

 

He understood why Ryan would want to limit his social time, though. He was well-known. Specifically in a big city like LA, where there were fans around every corner. So, Shane didn’t push it. He watched carefully, making sure Ryan didn’t get overwhelmed and suggested leaving when he seemed visibly exhausted.

 

And they did.

 

* * *

  

That night, after Ryan had gone to bed, Shane aimlessly paced the apartment to keep himself distracted and to prevent his mind from wandering. If he sat still for too long, he’d vanish and he didn’t want to lose anymore time. He also didn’t know if Ryan would be able to handle that again, which was most troubling.

 

Shane discovered that when he was using energy to remain visible, he could move objects around more frequently when he wasn’t.

 

While invisible, he figured that counted as re-charging his ghostly battery. He still wasn’t sure how to do it on command, but it usually happened when he was deeply, _deeply_ lost in thought or distracted. In his invisible state - usually occurring at night when Ryan was sleeping - he was often experimental.

 

Shane eyed the empty beer bottle for a few seconds - a quick, silent argument broke out between his good and mischievous side - then grinned. Really, there was no competition. He walked over to it and brushed his fingers across the glass, humming thoughtfully as he leaned onto the counter.

 

He knocked it over with his pointer finger, where it slowly rolled off the counter and landed on the floor with a _thump._

 

He waited one second. Two seconds. Three seconds, then-

 

_“Shane!”_

 

A laugh escaped him, but he resisted the urge to do it again. He knew his limits, and most importantly, he knew Ryan’s. Even if it was a joke, there was only so much ghostly activity Ryan would handle without hyperventilating. He’d been careful these last few days, making sure he didn’t over-do the shenanigans.

 

He knelt down and attempted to lift the bottle back into a standing position so Ryan didn’t trip on it and break his neck in the morning, but the effort took a few minutes. It always felt good, though, being able to move things when he literally shouldn’t be able to. He was air. He wasn’t a physical being anymore.

 

The fascination of the limitations that came with being a ghost was something that already faded. The strangeness that came with being a ghost in general had worn off too - it was weird to say, but he was used to it. He was _used_ to being a ghost, and he wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing.

 

In fact.. he was starting to get _bored._ It wasn’t due to hanging out with Ryan so much (god knows he’d been on vacations with him longer than this) nor was it completely to do with how he couldn’t interact with people or things. Just.. existing as a ghost, was boring. It was _exhausting._  It was normal.

 

Was boredom how ghosts became poltergeists? Or would he end up like Eli? He wasn’t sure which unsettled him more.

 

He sighed. Maybe he could ask Ryan.

 

It was late, and he hadn't heard another word from Ryan in almost an hour, but it didn’t hurt to check. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair but headed down the hallway. Then stopped. There had been a strange, indistinguishable noise but the first thought Shane had was _pleasedontbejerkingoffpleasedontbe-_

 

It was something different. Sniffling drew him closer to the room, and concern made his instincts kick into overdrive. He quickly appeared in the doorway and scanned the room; the lamp was on, softly illuminating Ryan who, instead of lying in bed, was sitting on the edge, hunched over with his head in his hands.

 

“Ryan?” He asked

 

At his words, Ryan jumped and quickly wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve as if Shane wouldn’t notice, or put two and two together.

 

“Hey.. what’s wrong? Was it a nightmare?”

 

Another sniffle. “I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not. Talk to me, man.”

 

Ryan had never been one to bottle his emotions up, and Shane knows that full well. He’s expressive. Both verbally, and with his body. If he’s scared, he’ll scream. If he’s angry, he’ll yell and use his hands a lot. If he’s confused, he’ll talk until he figures out exactly what the fuck is going on. He’s easy to read.

 

That being said, Shane felt like he could pinpoint the exact moment Ryan decided there must have been no point in lying. He shook his head and took a moment, but spoke up.

 

“I dunno, dude. It’s just-- the dark never used to be a big deal before, but now I feel like I’m always seeing shit. I’ve always gotta have a light on, now. Like some sort of fuckin’ six year old. It’s- that’s _embarrassing _.__ Even in my _dreams _,__  it’s always dark. Sometimes I can’t even tell the difference between reality and a dream.”

  

Shane hovered his hand over Ryan’s back.

 

“It’s not embarrassing. You’ve got trauma that’s, like, one hundred percent understandable.” He paused. Too real. Maybe a little bit too real, so he added: “And at the very least, the constant moths you’ll get can keep you company.”

 

Ryan’s lips twitched in a smile as he wiped his eyes again.

 

“Do you need a ghost smooch? Will that make you feel better?” He suggested with a nudge, “A big ol’ slobbery ghost smooch from yours truly? How many people can say a ghost kissed ‘em?”

 

The smile stayed on Ryan’s face, but he shook his head. “No thanks, I don’t want your ghost STD’s.”

 

“I’m clean!” He exclaimed, “And I’ve got the papers to prove it. You think such a handsome ghost like myself would go sleaze it with any random spook? I have standards, Ryan. I am a ghost with _standards._ ”

 

“You’re pretty defensive for someone who claims he hasn’t been having ghost sex.”

 

“That wouldn’t even-” Shane suddenly pauses. A realization hits. “..I’m a __virgin.__ ”

 

Ryan seemed to choke on his own spit.

 

“I am!” He insisted, “Turning into a ghost is like getting a new life, y’know? I haven’t had sex yet and-”

 

“Yet?!”

 

Shane wheezed, “Hold that thought-!”

 

“Hold that thought forever.” Ryan interrupted, shaking his head but laughing along at the ridiculousness.

 

“You wouldn't want to know if it was plausible? For scientific reasons? Two ghosts gettin’ it on? A couple ghouls having a good ol’ rump-n-bump? You ever wondered if-”

 

Ryan held up a hand, “Please. You’re gonna make me cry again.”

 

The two shared another laugh that quickly dissolved into a fit of childish giggles, and for a moment, Shane wasn’t even sure what they had been talking about before.

 

The two sat in comfortable silence for the next few moments while Ryan pulled himself back together. Shane peered at the bedside alarm clock which read 11:33PM. He knew two things: Ryan had some appointment at 8AM tomorrow, and that he had only been getting three hours of sleep a night the whole week.

 

“It’s past your bedtime, Bergara.” He declared, and moved to get up, “I guess I’ll leave you to it-”

 

Ryan suddenly inhaled sharply and grabbed Shane’s arm -- though the physical contact only lasted a split second, it was enough to get his full attention. He froze mid-stand, eyes locked on Ryan whose face was desperately trying to convey six different emotions at once, fear being the most prominent.

 

 “No, no, stay. Please.”

 

He recognized the tone, the anxious stare, and the timid expression all too well. It was in those ‘I’m gonna move closer to you just in case’ times during sleep-overs on location, and those ‘I’m scared out of my mind and your jokes are the only thing that helps’ moments. He didn’t even have to think about a response.

 

“Okay.” Was the reply, followed by a comforting smile that Ryan sheepishly looked away from. “I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

 

Ryan nodded to himself, then slowly returned back to his side of the bed. He lied on his back for a few minutes as he tried to get comfortable again, shifting under the pile of blankets that resembled a cocoon at this point, then sighed. He rolled to his side to shut the lamp off, but then remained in that position.

 

He didn’t fall asleep. Shane could tell by his labored breathing that he was still very much awake, and probably had his eyes wide open too. He had been privy to a few of Ryan’s nightmares - especially the ones on locations involving demons - and Ryan had never been able to sleep much afterwards. Not alone.

 

So, Shane’s mind and body had two different objectives: his brain just wanted to sit there, maybe talk about something until Ryan fell asleep naturally. As nice as that sounded, his body seemed to move on instinct as he moved around the bed, crawled across it and lowered himself down next to Ryan.

 

He laid on his back, both hands clasped together on his chest, while his legs dangled dangerously close to the end of the bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about how strange it was that he moved without even realizing it. Maybe it was the signal lag from his feet to his head. Maybe he thought too much.

 

But it felt like the right thing to do. It felt natural.

 

In response to that, Ryan immediately shifted positions to lie on his back

 

“..thank you.” He mumbled

 

“Yeah,” Shane replied just as soft, “Whatever you need, man. I’ve got you.”

 

Shane laid there with his eyes closed, attempting to match his breathing with Ryan’s who seemed more calm now. Shane knew he couldn’t sleep, and he definitely didn’t want to drift into the void while he wasn’t paying attention. All he could do now was try and keep his frazzled mind occupied with something.

 

It always drifted back to Eli.

 

It always drifted back to that night they helped her move on, that moment he tried to comfort her. He kept thinking about some of the last words she said to him during that short conversation. It was, for lack of a better word, childish how much he found himself thinking about it over the last few days.

 

_I think he like-likes you._

 

It was.. nothing. It was something kids say. It was something kids say all the time for no reason. There was no rhyme or reason behind it. Ninety percent of the time, kids made absolute no sense and talked just for the sake of talking. Maybe most people could say the very same thing about him, but-

 

_Do you like-like him?_

__

Yeah, kids talk too much.

__

_I-_

 

What had he been about to say before he got interrupted? Did he know?

 

Did he want to know?

 

In his current… _condition,_ did it even matter anymore?

 

Shane gently rolled over to his side, one arm folded underneath his head as makeshift pillow while the other sat in the space between them. He did the only thing he was good at and stopped thinking about it, especially with the two drastically different answers coming from both his head and his heart.

 

“What’re you staring at?” Ryan murmured

 

It took a moment to find his words, to filter them properly so he didn’t say something he’d regret, but eventually he came up with:

 

 “What’d she say to you?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Eli. When she was saying goodbye to you.”

 

Ryan stared back, bleary, tired eyes expression an emotion he couldn’t quite figure out

 

“I don’t remember.” He mumbled.

 

Shane figured it wasn’t a good time to call him out on the obvious lie.

 

“Mm. Alright. Go to sleep.” He said instead.

 

Ryan didn’t argue that. “Okay. Night.”

 

“Night.”

 

Ryan rolled his head back to face the ceiling, and within fifteen minutes, he was asleep.

 

Shane kept staring, though.

 

He waited a few more minutes before he reached out.

 

Shane hesitated for a moment with pursed lips. It was stupid. It was a stupid idea. His hand hovered over Ryan’s face for what seemed like forever until he decided to take the plunge and lower it. He felt the warmth immediately, and rough texture from Ryan’s day old stubble as Shane brushed his fingers across his jaw.

 

His fingertips brushed up the side of Ryan’s face, lingering there and absently caressing his cheek with a thumb. Shane hummed softly, moving that hand to his temple, then brushed the unkempt hair from Ryan’s forehead as if he could neatly part it to the side. Not even god could fix that birds nest.

 

Shane let out a sigh as soft as his touch then inched closer (if his body weight affected the bed, he had no idea but didn’t want to take the risk). He draped that arm across Ryan’s chest, careful to keep it hovered since his ghostly-body chose its moments to become physical, and didn't want to just.. have his arm inside Ryan’s chest.

 

It’s nice how natural it felt though; like he’d done it a million times before, like he never wants to move from this spot. He laid there, staring absently into the middle distance while he tapped a finger against Ryan’s chest. He wondered how different this would feel if he was still alive.

 

Maybe that was better to not think about.

 

Shane closed his eyes. He felt relaxed. More.. in control of his ghostly state than he had ever been. His breathing became evenly paced with Ryan’s without falling asleep.

 

And in that moment where his arm had weight and the warmth felt real, he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> go re-read the bed scene but listen to 'heaven' by kane brown.................trust me...please


	20. XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't even read the chapter. This video is verbatim what happens in this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MxQlpeD4EKc

* * *

 

It became a routine after that.

 

Even after Ryan went to bed alone, there was only so much Shane could do to entertain himself, (and really, he knew he couldn’t keep standing on the balcony to brood) before following suit. After a few days, he didn’t even bother making up an excuse, and just got comfortable in the bed as Ryan settled in for the night.

 

They didn’t talk about it. Even after that first night, when he ‘woke up’ with Ryan curled up against his chest. Even when Ryan opened his eyes and they just... stared at each other for a while wordlessly. Even when he put his hand on-top Ryan’s that rested in the space between them, interlacing their fingers.

 

For research purposes, a part of his brain would argue. He still wasn’t sure why or how his body often forgot it was supposed to be a ghost, but it was worth experimenting with. Yeah, right. That was it. If, for the time being, he could give Ryan even a little bit of comfort, he decided it would all be worth it.

 

It was more comfort he offered than what he was still alive; there had always been... boundaries. They never really did hugs. Nothing more than a high five, or just brushed arms if they sat too close together. Shane liked to use his hands for everything - he liked to touch, especially if he was excited.

 

Ryan, however, didn’t like to be touched; he’d always swat Shane’s hand away or shrug off the arm that Shane tried to put around his shoulders. He never pushed it - he didn’t want to cross that unspoken line, even when there were times on location, he’d kill to wrap his noodle-like arms around Ryan to squeeze away some of that fear.

 

So maybe that’s why he ended up on his side, staring at Ryan, anxiously tapping the mattress while lost in thought.

 

He propped himself of on an elbow (which didn’t make an indent in the mattress, he noticed) and just stared down at Ryan. He looked peaceful; the colour had returned to his face and the bags under his eyes were gone thanks to the amount of shut-eye he’d been getting - seven full hours of sleep, baby!

 

Just like the mornings before this, he reached out with a careful, steady hand and gently brushed the hair from Ryan’s forehead. He needed a haircut. Shane had meant to point it out, but it somehow kept slipping his mind. Yeah, somehow. He didn’t know why it was his first instinct lately but couldn’t seem to break the habit.

 

Shane’s smile was soft. He’d been smiling the whole time. Something else he had no control over.

 

It was constantly followed by that sense of... comfort, the utter serenity that came with being around someone you cared so much about. Someone you could trust with your life, someone who made getting up in the morning worth it, someone you could laugh with or cry to, someone you-

 

Now, Shane was an adult (yes, even he knew it was hard to believe sometimes). An adult with critical thinking skills _and_ emotions (he had them all the time!). He knew how to put two and two together. The tightness in his chest and stupid school-boy level giddiness that was so ever present in moments like this?

 

The phantom pain wrapped around his heart just thinking about it.

 

Maybe if he was alive, he would have handled it differently. Maybe he would have dealt with all his problems head on instead of ignoring them, maybe he would have given it more thought. But he was dead. And it didn’t matter what he thought, or what he felt, because it wouldn’t make a difference. It didn’t matter.

 

It didn’t _matter._

In the days after that realization, he started to pull away. Started to distance himself in general. He’d talk and joke less, stay in the apartment when Ryan went out, and hang out on the balcony most of the day. It was for the best. It was better this way. At least, that’s what he tried to convince himself with.

 

He felt bad brushing aside Ryan’s attempts to initiate conversation, but after several distracted, one to two-word replies, he must have figured Shane just wasn’t in the mood. It was childish, sure, maybe, and he also knew it wasn’t Ryan’s fault, so this silent treatment wasn’t fair or doing either of them any favours.

 

Then, one morning, they didn’t speak at all. That wasn’t unusual in the sense that Ryan wasn’t exactly a morning person - he never had been. He often had no energy until noon rolled around, and most days lately he hadn’t even gotten out of bed before eleven. He woke up alone too, since Shane had already left the room.

 

And it worked.

 

Until it didn’t.

 

“What’s wrong with you lately?”

 

Last time he checked, it had been nearing seven, but the sudden question startled him. He’d been standing on the balcony most of the day since it was one place Ryan typically didn’t follow. Something about the smell of his chain-smoking neighbour. Shane turned and stared at Ryan who stood in the door frame.

 

“What? With me? Nothing.”

 

He walked half around, half through Ryan with the intention of entering the living room to avoid this conversation, but Ryan turned and grabbed his arm. Actually, _grabbed_ his arm like he was physical and that alone was enough to really get Shane’s attention. Their eyes met and he noticed how stressed Ryan looked.

 

“Shane. Talk to me.” He pleaded, “Please.”

 

Shane wanted nothing to do with those puppy dog eyes; they had a way of making him feel guilty without even doing anything. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

“Bullshit.” Ryan instantly fired back, “You and I both know that’s bullshit. I’ve known you for long enough to know when you’re lying or somethings wrong.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.

 

“It does! You’re upset. You’re my friend, so it matters.”

 

He shrugged, “I haven’t noticed.”

 

“You’ve barely said a word.” Ryan pointed out, “You. I can never get you to _stop_ talking. You even talk in your sleep for gods’ sakes-”

 

“I don’t sleep.”

 

“-so, somethings up.” He ignored Shane’s grumble. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

He waited, and on a good day maybe Shane would gasp dramatically, clutch a hand to his chest and say something like; _Y’know, Bergara, we have so many heart-to-hearts we’re gonna have to surgically separate ‘em. Like conjoined twins._ And Ryan would reply with, _Twins? If I had your face I’d shoot myself._

 

And then they’d laugh. And that would be that.

 

But today wasn’t a good day.

 

Ryan must have finally understood that. “It’s about the coin, isn’t it?”

 

He sounded defeated; he’d been trying to avoid this topic for longer than Shane had.

 

“We have to talk about it eventually.”

 

Ryan exhaled and looked away. “I know. But I don’t- I can’t- not now.”

 

“If not now, then when?” If he didn’t press the issue now, he might not get another chance. “If we don’t, we’re just gonna keep delaying the inevitable.”

 

No Response.

 

“I’m _dead,_ Ryan. I’m dead.”

 

Ryan said nothing.

 

“The only thing keeping me here as that quarter in your pocket.” He continued. “And sooner or later, you’re gonna have to do the same thing to me that we did to Eli.”

 

Slowly, Ryan looked back up at him.

 

“It’s about what’s best for you.” Shane insisted. “That’s all.”

 

“What about what’s best for _you?”_

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Ryan scoffed, “So you keep saying. Why not?”

 

With a frustrated huff, Shane turned around and dragged his hands down his face.

 

“Stop trying to turn this around.” He grumbled into his palms, “It’s not about me. It’s about you.”

 

“You’re the ghost,” He could almost feel Ryan staring a hole into his back. “It _is_ about you.

 

“That’s not the point.”

 

“Isn’t it? We’re talking about the coin. So, we’re talking about you.

 

“I don’t _care_ if its best for me or not. I just-” A pause, “-right now, I care about what’s best for you. That’s it. That’s all.”

 

“Why?” He barely got the last word out before Ryan shot one back. It’s like he hadn’t even listened. “I don’t understand why--”

 

Shane spun around so fast Ryan flinched.

 

“Because this whole situation isn’t helping you get better!” He shouted, unable to stop it. “It’s not! You need to be able to grieve properly, like a normal person! And me- having me around? It’s not healthy, it’s stunting your recovery process. I don’t care what you tell yourself, it’s not _helping_ you!”

 

“I- I...”

 

Shane knew he should have stopped there, but it all just... came out. “You’re not coping, because this-?” He gestured between the two of them wildly, “-isn’t normal. Having your dead, best friend around in ghost form isn’t normal. You needed closure, Ry, you wanted to say goodbye, and I get that, but-”

 

He’d stopped yelling, but the bitterness in his voice was sharper than a knife.

 

“-but,” he continued, “you got to say goodbye to me. That’s all you wanted. That’s why you kept coming back to the asylum. Maybe it’s time you say goodbye for real.”

 

He never raised his voice before, even when they argued. He never lashed out with the intention of his words to sting, but god, oh _god_ , did that hurt to say. He knew it worked though, that his message got across because Ryan looked at him like he had just been slapped. He looked confused. He looked _hurt._

“I’m just trying to- I wanted to help you.” He didn’t yell back. He didn’t raise his voice at all. It was barely a whisper. “I just wanted to help.”

And it made Shane’s heart instantly start to ache. Because Ryan didn’t say anything else in his defense or lash out in the same way; he just did that stupid thing where he processed the words and cast his disheartened stare downwards like a kicked puppy, giving Shane plenty time to feel guilty. And god, it sure worked.

 

After a minute, he said: “Do you hate me?”

 

Shane held his tongue. “That’s not fair.”

 

“Do you?” He repeated and met Shane’s eyes. “Do you hate me for keeping you here? Do you hate _being_ here?”

 

“Ryan-”

 

“Please. Just tell me.”

 

Shane swallowed roughly, “No, no, that’s- that’s the opposite of what I..” He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he feeling? Frustration? Annoyance? With Ryan? Or just himself? Maybe if he hadn’t waited so long to talk about this… “You’re not getting it.”

 

“Then help me understand. _Talk_ to me.”

 

Shane wasn’t sure how to respond, so Ryan continued.

 

“You died- you back as a ghost and had to deal with all the shit that comes with it. You had to deal with it _alone._ I-” He sucked in a breath, “-I don’t.. I can’t even imagine what that’d be like, and I was the one who believed in them.” Another pause. “You’re worried about me, but I’m beyond worried about you.”

 

Shane pressed his face into his hands. “I’m dealing with it. I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

 

Words failed him, so he simply leaned against the back of the couch and exhaled loudly. Eyes closed, he wasn’t sure if he was glitching or not, but he tried to relax before his body pulled an  _a b_ _ra-ka fuck you_  and vanished into nothing. This conversation hadn’t been going the way he wanted in the slightest.

 

“Shane.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right. But its working for me so far.”

 

Ryan crossed his arms and squared his shoulders, making himself appear slightly taller next to Shane’s hunched over posture. He tried to go for a stern expression no doubt but couldn’t quite get rid of the prominent anxiety written all over his face.

 

“Ever since you became visible to me,” He started, with a tone that indicated he was choosing his words carefully. He must not have wanted another outburst. “You’ve been feeling like this? Pretending to be okay for my sake?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“That wasn’t an answer.”

 

He shrugged.

 

“Please talk to me.”

 

He stared at Ryan, exhausted and frustrated. There were tired, dark circles under his eyes that didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what he was really feeling. There was no middle ground to the surge of emotions; he either felt nothing or everything all at once, and it came out as an unexpected outburst.

 

“Okay, fine Ryan. I’m lying.” Shane voice was flat. “Is that what you want to hear? To you. To myself. I’m lying about how I’m coping with all this shit? That I’m lying about pretty much everything lately? You’re right. I’m fucking lying. You know why? Cause you have too many problems of your own to have to deal with mine.”

 

“I-”

 

Shane pushed away from the couch, “I was- I’m _still_ lying to you. Cause every time I get stuck in that emptiness, it’s not fuckin’ pizza that pulls me out. It’s you, Ryan. It’s been you from the _start._ Every time I get stuck, all I did was picture your face, your voice, and think of how much I wanted to get back to you.”

 

“Being around you keeps me in control; it keeps me calm and focused, grounded in reality, so I don’t blink out again. I don’t know why-” _Stop lying._ “-but it does. And I’m glad it does. Because honestly I don’t think I woulda' come back for anything else. If it weren’t for you I’d still be in that void.”

 

There was no translating the expression on Ryan’s face.

 

“And this shit with the coin-? I don’t wanna.. I-”

 

God, he’d rather be angry again than deal with this sappy, emotional blubbering, and the wide-eyed expression Ryan has been giving him for the past ten minutes. He initially thought talking would relieve some of the tightness in his chest, but really it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

 

“God, Ryan, I don’t want to go. This-” He gestured to himself, “-may not be a good life, but at least I’m still here. I’m still _here_. I’m clinging onto whatever bullshit barrier is between me and actual death, ‘cause I don’t wanna die, Ryan. I don’t wanna _die_ , not for real, ‘cause I don’t know what’s after this.”

 

“What if we burn the coin, and there is no afterlife? What if I just disappear forever? Jesus, Ryan, I’m so fucking scared I’ll-” A sharp intake of unneeded breath, but it was instinct, “-I don’t wanna just.. stop existing. I don’t wanna not _exist._ Not knowing what comes after this terrifies me.”

 

Ryan moved closer to him, but the expression on his face was clearer now; there was pity, sure, but also a deep sadness that he hadn’t seen on Ryan’s face since that night he first became visible. With it, came that overwhelming urge to pull him close and wrap him up in a heartening hug that both desperately needed.

 

“But it’s so… exhausting. I can’t go anywhere. I can’t do anything. I can’t _touch_ anything. Everyone takes their sense of touch for granted, but without it, I..” he stares down at his palms. “..I feel useless. Lost. I haven’t even felt like myself since I woke up. And it sucks cause even after all that, I..”

 

He sighed. Might as well say it, he had nothing else to lose.

 

“..I don’t wanna leave you.”

 

“I don’t want you to leave me either.”

 

Shane let out a humorless laugh, “I guess we’re back at square one.”

 

“Then its settled.” Ryan said, matter-o-factly. “You don’t have to move on, if you don’t- You can stay. You can- We can find a way to make this work for you.”

 

“I care about your mental health more than my fear of death.”

 

“And I care about _you_ more than me.”

 

Shane wanted to tear his hair out. “Why? Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

 

“Because, I-” The reply was instant, as if he had expected that exact question, but Ryan stopped as quickly as he had started. He clammed up and pursed his lips to prevent himself from saying what he really meant to say. Instead, he shook his head. “I just- I thought this- that it would be obvious by now.”

 

Shane frowned, “What would?”

 

Ryan visibly deflated. Okay. Not what he wanted to hear. Clearly.

 

“Ryan-”

 

“No.” He held up a hand, “Just forget about it, okay?  It’s stupid. I’m stupid.”

 

The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on his shoulders like a physical force, like he still had a body to feel things with. Almost as heavy as the guilt, which caused him to deflate. Why did he always have to say the wrong things? Why did he have the worst times to be a genuinely confused, clueless idiot?

 

Shane peered down at his hands; for the first time since being in Ryan’s apartment, he started to flicker. It was very faint because he was still holding it together, but his emotions (damn them) were trying to cause a scene. _That_ caused the frustration to kick in. He couldn’t just start glitching just because he was a little upset

 

“Don’t bother.” Ryan grumbled, noticing it too. He looked as upset as Shane felt. “I’m gonna- god, I just- I need some air.”

 

He turned and walked out, slamming the apartment door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted them to communicate, right?


	21. XXI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been working on this one since chapter two. 3.5k words babey. I've been planning it for even longer. I tried to get everything just right, because this one is really important. It's gotta hit the bullseye 'cause it sets up the ending. (im kinda nervous about it)

* * *

 

The next time Shane resurfaced, he was somewhere new. The hallway was wide and brightly lit, with red carpet running the length of it over wood panel flooring. There were several other closed doors, but he stood next to one at the end of the hallway, with a large, rectangular window overlooking the city to their left.

 

He blinked out of his confused state – he hadn’t even remembered blacking out. He and Ryan argued, Ryan got upset, left the apartment and then-? They weren’t in an apartment complex, he knew that much. The interior was too.. elegant. Professional. They were up high though; maybe an office building? But why?

 

Aside from his confusion, it didn’t take long to register he wasn’t alone. He stood slightly behind Ryan, who didn’t appear to notice him. He was facing a closed door, anxiously rubbing his hands together before giving a quick glance down the hallway. There was no indication that he saw Shane, so he turned his focus back on the door.

 

He frowned. How’d he even get here? Usually he wasn’t allowed to leave the apartment, except when the two of them went out and - _oh,_ yeah. The coin. He could only follow where ever the coin went. Ryan must have forgotten to take it out of his pocket before walking out. He doubted it was on purpose, since he wanted to be alone.

 

As Shane pondered the decision to try and make himself visible or continue to give his friend some space, the door opened. They both came face-to-face with an older woman, with dark, curly hair tied back in a neat bun. She wore a simple, plain light blue suit jacket, white dress shirt and skirt that screamed professionalism.

 

“Ryan, hello.” She spoke softly, accompanied with a smile. Was that a Spanish accent? “You’re right on time. Come in.”

 

She moved aside as Ryan returned the smile and shuffled into the room, but left it open long enough for Shane to slip in too. He immediately began to scan the room, and it didn’t take long to figure out where they were: a small table with a couch and singular chair on either side against the wall, a desk in the far corner.

 

On the wall near the desk he approached, was a framed drawing of a hot dog on a skateboard, with a messy “to mom from simon” written near the bottom. It was titled “later haters im a skater”. Shane chuckled, but no one seemed to hear it. Why wasn’t this piece in an art museum? He’d love to meet the brilliant mind behind it.

 

Although, he recalled Ryan saying something about a framed drawing of a hot dog once upon a time, and it got a few gears turning in his head. Shane’s eyes drifted around the desk for clues, then everything clicked into place as they landed on a plaque on the desk that read ‘Dr. Jade A. Hylia’. Ah, yeah. That name rang a bell.

 

“It’s good to see you again, Ryan.” He turned around just as Dr. Hylia took a seat in that black, leather chair. “It’s been a while. I hope everything’s been alright?”

 

Ryan smiled sheepishly from where he sat on the couch, “Yeah. I was – I just needed some time to figure some stuff out.”

 

She nodded, “Completely understandable.”

 

Shane wandered back over towards them but scanned the rest of the room; it was more decorated than he first noticed. He wasn’t sure what he expected a therapist office to look like – a classroom? Motivational posters on the walls? Encouraging quotes from philosophers’ and historical figures no ones ever heard of?

 

Instead, it was fairly.. minimalist. Besides the bookshelves and standard ‘therapists chair facing the clients couch’ setup, there wasn’t much in the room. It was clean, organised, spacious. Even the bookshelves were neat and tidy. Not a book out of place. Definitely a welcoming environment, but that was the point, right?

 

“How’s everything going?” Hylia was saying. “Any progress?”

 

“I, um, got around to cleaning my apartment.” He offered, still not meeting her stare. “Not the whole thing, but..”

 

She beamed as if he’d just told her he found the cure for cancer, “Ryan, that’s wonderful.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Yes, yes, of course.” The enthusiasm in her voice didn’t sound forced. He didn’t know why he found that surprising. “Depression has debilitated you for the better part of a year and finding the strength to fight back is a huge step.”

 

Ryan looked embarrassed by the praise. “I just did some dishes..”

 

“And you said most days it was exhausting just getting out of bed. It drained you just to take a few steps.” She told him. “Did you know doing the dishes burns a hundred and twenty-eight calories?”

 

Shane figured that was bullshit but couldn’t exactly use google to dispute it.

 

“No,” ryan laughed, “I didn’t. Is that – are you just bullshitting me?”

 

“Of course not!” She chuckled along, “Using the stairs instead of the elevator burns two hundred and eight. Doing general housework will burn another hundred and fourty-eight.” A pause, “And it’s a good workout when you don’t have the energy to go to the gym.”

 

He figured it was subconscious, but Ryan put a hand on his bicep.

 

Shane suddenly felt like he was intruding. He knew therapists had patient-doctor confidentiality or whatever, but it wasn’t like he was going to tell anyone about this, right? He felt like vanishing would be the right thing to do, but he also.. wanted to know what Ryan was feeling. _Really_ feeling, not the watered-down version he told Shane.

 

She didn’t jump right into it, though; she could tell Ryan was stressed, so she made small talk. Not about the weather, not about the news, not anything that would get one-word responses. She mentioned how her spouse watched ‘the game’ last night, which was enough to prompt Ryan into a full-blown discussion.

 

Shane was sure Ryan had spent the previous day on the ‘net rather than watching TV, but then again, who knows how much time had passed between their fight and now? Not knowing usually bothered him, but for once, he really didn’t care enough to find a calendar and check; he’d rather just sit here and listen to Ryan speak.

 

He wasn’t sure what he thought of Dr. Hylia yet. She was nice, sure, patient and thoughtful, but wasn’t that her job? To pretend to care? Shane did his fair share of staring, watching for any signs that she might be getting bored while Ryan eagerly discussed basketball strats. She barely wrote in that notebook.

 

She looked genuinely interested in whatever he had to say; she contributed to whatever topic the conversation switched to and kept him engaged whenever he faltered. Shane walked over, peered over her shoulder, and tried to read an open page when she set the notebook down, but it was all cursive.

 

Eventually, the subject changed. She mentioned how his case became more personal since her son discovered Unsolved and became particularly fond of ‘the ones with aliens and bigfoot’. Ryan laughed along, and even Shane couldn’t help but smile because according to her son: ‘shane is cooler but ghosts _are_ real.’.

 

“I genuinely want to help you get better, Ryan.” She said as if she could read _Shane’s_ mind. “Unlike most patients, I have a very good understanding of how close you two were, since I’m able to see it with my own eyes. And from what I've seen, you two seem to be two sides of the same coin.”

 

Ryan laughed, “More like two halves of a whole idiot.”

 

She smiled brightly and studied him intently, but her expression gave no clues as to what she was thinking. Shane wanted to thank her for taking care of Ryan when he couldn’t, for giving him a reason to get out of his apartment and have someone to talk to. She was someone who could figure out his puzzle of a brain.

 

It wasn’t long before Ryan’s smile faded, though.

 

 “I miss him.”

 

Dr. Hylia nodded slowly, “The grieving process affects everyone differently. Some people go through all five stages within a week and move on. For others, it takes months, or even years. And some people.. some people never move on; or they actively choose not to.”

 

Ryan seemed to consider that. “And which category do you think I’m in?”

 

“For those in your situation... it depends. Truly, Ryan. But if you want my honest opinion,” A quick pause. She waited for him to look up and meet her stare. “I think it’s the latter. I think you’re choosing not to let him go. You don’t want to move on.”

 

He let out a deep sigh. Guilty as charged, apparently. Shane wanted to reach out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but figured it was probably too late to show himself now. It was probably best if he didn’t appear – what if she saw him? What would he even say? _Hi, I’m the dead best friend. Also, ghosts are real._

 

Because of their argument, he _knew_ it was true. Ryan didn’t want to move on because it meant helping Shane move on. It meant being alone again. And now that Ryan knew _he_ didn’t want to go either, the feeling probably intensified. It was stupid. Shane should have just kept his mouth shut and his emotions internalized.

 

The silence was heavy, but it didn’t last long because she seemed to read his mind like a book. Maybe it was the look on his face. Or maybe she had his apartment bugged. Maybe she could just astral project directly into his mind and watch his memories, because something on her face just.. clicked into place.

 

“You’re seeing him again.”

 

Ryan looked deflated. It wasn’t like he could tell her Shane was an actual ghost he talked to on a daily basis, not a hallucination. In fact, there wasn’t much he could say at all about their situation that wouldn’t result in her giving him more meds or ruining whatever trusting relationship they had built so far.

 

She set the notebook down, but thankfully didn’t look disappointed or angry with the revelation. “You seem... lost, Ryan. Lost and perturbed.”

 

“I thought I was doing better.” he replied and kept toying with his fingers. “I hate feeling like this.”

 

She nodded, “It doesn’t mean you're getting worse, though. Hallucinating a loved one or friend often means you had unfinished business with them, so to speak. More often than not, they still had things to say to the deceased and never got to.”

 

Ryan pursed his lips. He was distracted, and his frustration was painted all over his face. For a moment, Shane let himself be worried; what if Ryan actually thought he _was_ just a hallucination? He quickly put that thought back in the trash can. They’d come too far to be having these doubts now. It was all real.

 

“Why do you think you're seeing him?” She repeated.

 

“He's my friend and I miss him,” Ryan said a little too defensively. He hugged his arms close to his chest. “I'm- It’s just... I’m seeing him because I don't want him to be dead.”

 

There was something about his tone, about the expression on his face, about the way he was acting, that Shane found strange. It was like Hylia hit a nerve but there was no visible, explicable reason for it. A quick glance over at her confirmed his suspicion; going by the look on her face, she was thinking the exact same thing.

 

“There’s something.” She noticed but didn’t directly call him out on his behavior like Shane would have. “Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me. I’m not here to judge, or say you’re crazy, because you’re not. It’s grief, Ryan. That’s all it is.”

 

Ryan nodded solemnly. “I know, I just…” a sigh, “It’s stupid. He’d think it was stupid.”

 

“He’s not here now, is he? You don’t see him?”

 

Ryan didn’t even look. “No.”

 

“Then, it’s just between us.” She smiled. “What else was there?” her voice was gentle. She wasn't going to force him to speak, “What's one thing you wanted to say to him before he died?”

 

It took a short while to collect his thoughts, but Ryan finally looked over his shoulder, then scanned the room. He looked nervous. His gaze passed right though Shane, which must have been who he was looking for. Satisfied thinking it was just the two of them, Ryan cleared his throat and returned his stare to Hylia.

 

“I guess, um..” he started, then paused just as quickly. Just like before, when he tried to prevent himself from continuing. The silence dragged on just long enough to assume he wasn't going to respond, but it was clear Dr. Hylia was used to it. Finally, he sighed warily, “I, uh, never got to tell him I was in love with him.”

 

Shane stiffened.

 

“I see.” Dr. Hylia’s smile didn’t fade, but she cocked her head to the side ever so slightly. Her curiosity was piqued. “And why didn't you?”

 

Ryan took a sudden interest in his hands, “I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t risk our friendship, ‘cause I knew it was only one-sided.” he paused for a long time and Shane stared at his own hands, “And I figured… I'd have more time to eventually tell him, y’know? But I bet you hear that one a lot.”

 

“I understand.” She put her notepad on the armrest and clasped her hands together, “And what made you think it was one sided?”

 

“Just a feeling.” he said quickly, obvious he didn't want to carry on this line of discussion, “you've seen him, remember? Total ladies’ man.”

 

While she studied him with a strange expression that bordered on disbelief, Ryan continued to pull on a loose string on his jacket sleeve.

 

“I’m sure most people would say the same about you, Ryan.”

 

He brushed it off, “If he was-- I mean, I would have known if he..”

 

In return, she sighed. “Did he know about you?”

 

Ryan said nothing.

 

“What I’m saying,” She continued, “Is that no matter how long you know someone, you’ll never know everything about them. It’s not a matter of lack of trust, especially in this case. Perhaps he was waiting for the right moment to tell you, as well. Maybe he felt the same way and thought _you_ were the ladies man.”

 

Shane couldn’t think of anything witty to say – or anything at all, for that matter. He just kept staring at his hands while his brain shut down and restarted over and over again.

 

Ryan stared off into space. He didn’t look convinced. “Yeah. Maybe. I guess we’ll never know.”

 

“I won't push you, Ryan. But it's good to talk about. Expressing your feelings often helps you move on, and it can feel like a weight off your shoulders. Or maybe you could speak how you feel like he’s actually in the room sitting next to you.”

 

He peered over at the empty space next to him, but Shane was still perched on the armrest with his head in his hands now.

 

Shane only had one coherent thought: he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be listening to this – to _any_ of this. He shouldn’t be sitting here listening to Ryan spill his heart out to his therapist. Doctor-Patient confidentiality, and all that jazz. Yeah. Right. His brain scoffed. Was he still trying to go with that excuse? Really?

 

He hated the way his chest constricted; the way his heart ached when he shouldn’t be able to feel anything at all. That was the point of being a ghost, right? The point of being _dead?_ Not feeling anything? The more he thought about what Ryan said, the stronger that ache became, and there really wasn’t a way to stop it.

 

 “I’d sound like some teenage girl gushing about her crush.” Ryan sighed with another head shake, “It would be stupid.”

 

 “Okay.” She said. “But if you do want to talk, I understand completely.” A pause. “He was quite handsome, wasn’t he?”

 

“Yeah.” The response was instant, and the flustered expression returned when he must have realized.

 

Hylia pressed a few fingers to her lips to suppress warm smile. “We’re not in elementary school, Ryan. I’m not going to tease you over it. Do you want me to start? He seemed very charming.”

 

A half-laugh, half snort escaped Ryan. “Is this- are you trying to steal the guy I have a crush on?”

 

“No, of course not.” She shared the laugh, “Just trying to make you feel more comfortable.”

 

With Ryan smiling ever so slightly now, he ran his hands through his hair as he leaned back into the couch, “Where do I even start? The reasons why I like him is fu- god, it’s a million pages long.”

 

“Start with the obvious.” She suggested, then leaned back in her chair as well. “The reasons why you _and_ all your fans liked him, then get more personal. Things only you know. The moment you realized you were in love with him.”

 

Ryan nodded. “Okay. Um.” A quick pause. “I... like his whole vibe. He’s completely ridiculous, but in a good way. He could brighten a whole room just by entering and that’s- that’s- I’m not even talking about his _smile_ yet.”

 

“I’ll make a note to come back to that.” She tapped her notepad

 

 “He’s so... down to earth. Ridiculous, like I said. On one hand, he’s a goofy and lovable idiot, but on the other, he’s also super kindhearted, smart and charming. His sense of humor and personality are another conversation all together – and I mean, isn’t that everyone’s type anyway?”

 

At that, she chuckled. “I suppose good men _are_ hard to find these days.”

 

Understatement of the century. Ryan nodded, though.

 

“He was, um, really good at noticing when something was off, but wouldn’t call me out on it. He’d wait ‘til we were done, pull me aside and just _ask_ if I was okay and what he could do to help. He’d know when I was scared, or anxious, or even angry, and just wouldn’t stop cracking jokes ‘til I laughed.”

 

“He uses his hands to talk, especially when he’s riled up or excited, like some sort of – like those inflatable tube men, y’know? It’s adorable. His eyes will light up too, or they’ll get all wide and sparkly.”

 

There was another stretch of silence, but he didn’t stop there.

 

 “God-” He mumbled and rubbed his temples. “-and his…”

 

 “His smile?” she prompted helpfully, “I believe you were saying something about it?”

 

“Right. It was contagious. If he smiled, you smiled more, if he laughed, you laughed harder.  He sounds so… _happy_ when he laughs, and honestly, it always makes me feel better.” Ryan closed his eyes. “The way his whole face scrunches up and eyes get all squinty.”

 

He just kept going.

 

“He’d usually walk me to my car after work, especially if it was raining. He’d hold the umbrella and say something about tall people being lightning rods; that he’d take the lightening strike so I wouldn’t ruin my hair.” His laugh was quiet. “He’d make sure I texted to let him know I got home safe during a storm.”

 

He looked calm now.

 

“One day I was – I was really sick, so I stayed home, insisted I was fine, but the stubborn bastard left work early to come take care of me. He brought soup.” Ryan smiled at the same memory Shane remembered just as vividly. “We watched old movies, he made me food, brought me medicine and blankets…”

 

“He offered to stay the night to be my guardian angel – _his_ words not mine – but I didn’t wanna get him sick. Sick Shane is a nightmare. So he cleaned up my place a bit, made me some toast and refused to leave until he was convinced I was comfortable in my blanket-cocoon and wasn’t on the verge of death anymore.

 

“I think he thought I was asleep, ‘cause he leaned over me and just kind of... caressed my face for a little while. He hummed and it was so hard not to smile, because it was _so_ nice. The intimacy of it all, I mean. He pressed his face into my hair, whispered goodnight to me, and I think I – that was when I realized that, I...”

 

 Oh. Was it suddenly warm in there?

 

“Ryan.” She said, drawing his gaze to hers. “You can see it now, can’t you? He loved you too.”

 

He didn’t respond.

 

Shane, eyes closed, was barely paying attention. He was too focused on the ache he _shouldn’t_ be feeling to really digest everything Ryan had unknowingly dropped on him. A part of him didn’t want to think about it at all; just ignore it like everything else. The other part wanted to dissect and analyze every word.

 

Whatever those two said next was lost on him in his dissociative state; maybe it was important, maybe it wasn’t, but he’d heard enough. He knew what happened when he bottled everything up, what kind of outburst he’d have, but he couldn’t do this, not now. He needed a second to breathe and think properly.

 

_Coward._

 

“Yeah.” He mumbled, “I know.”

 

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be the last one, and no, that's not an April fools prank. It will be pretty long, so there's probably gonna be a mini hiatus until then.


	22. End (1/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > figuring out how to start a chapter is hard, and wondering how to end it is even worse. I think I figured it out, though.
> 
> > all in all, its about 8000 words, and theres SO much, so I had to split it into two parts, cause theres so much to process. Both parts are drastically different in tone. 
> 
> >hopefully im forgiven for taking over two months...

* * *

 

Within the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts, the tsunami of emotions, and whatever other stupidly poetic synonyms his fried brain could come up with, there was a calmness. A calmness he hadn’t expected but one he latched onto it like a drowning man to a life jacket because it was the only thing that made sense. It kept him focused.

 

His whole ideology was, and always has been, based around hard facts. Scientific evidence. Real, indisputable proof. He wouldn’t believe in ghosts without proof. He wouldn’t believe in any supernatural force without proof. He wouldn’t believe that Ryan had a crush on him—that the feeling was mutual, without _proof._

 

Proof? Besides the fact he outright confessed it?

 

_I never got to tell him that I was in love with him._

 

The words echoed around inside his brain, as if letting them bounce around like a screensaver would make this any easier to think about. He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his hair. Okay. He mulled it over. _Really_ gave it thought and consideration, even though that’s what worsened the ache in his chest.

 

There really was nothing _to_ consider. He had the facts. Ryan Bergara, his best friend had— _has_ a thing for him. He had a crush, with a capital C. A full-fledged C-r-u-s-h. It was hard to wrap his head around. Him? A crush on _him?_ His best friend? Had a _crush_ on _him?_ And why couldn’t he stop saying the word crush?

 

_No, he said he was in love with you._

 

One thing at a time, brain.

 

All those times they slept next to each other on location—that feeling of comfort between the two of them when Ryan got a little too scared and edged closer. The whispered conversations they’d have, faces only inches apart where he never once considered that Ryan might’ve hoped that closeness could lead to something else.

 

At the office, all those smiles they shared that lingered a little too long to be considered anything but hopeless pining. Those times he’d catch Ryan staring at him, completely zoned out with the softest smile on his face that couldn’t possibly be meant for Shane. The playful insults with a huge grin plastered on his face and sparkles in his eyes.

 

Still, it wasn’t fair of either of them to say he hadn’t noticed his own crush; he was an idiot, sure, downright stupid at times, but he wasn’t a child. He knew what attraction felt like—that warmth in his face when Ryan’s shirt was just a little too tight, when he did that ‘I’m definitely not flexing, im just stretching’ thing.

 

The butterflies that came when Ryan fell into wheezy laughter because of one of his stupid, drawn out jokes, or when they got a little too deep into a bit. The knowledge that Shane _liked_ making him laugh, liked seeing that bright, wide smile—especially when he tried hiding it, the way the laugh sometimes fizzled out into high-pitched cackling.

 

The way he’d ruffle Ryan’s hair and comment how nice it looked without product, gravitating towards him a crowded room, bringing coffee for both of them in the morning, insisting on driving him home after a long night, especially if it was storming. _Oh, you took an uber to work? Great. Now I have an excuse to be with you._

 

It was deeper than that, though. They had overlapping personalities, wildly different types of chaotic energy, but they _clicked._ They knew each others limits, their little mannerisms down to the smallest detail—thinking on it, Shane could openly say that Ryan sometimes knew him better than he knew himself.

 

Yeah, okay. So, he was guilty as charged, but he knew that already. He’d known if for years now, but been too blissfully ignorant to admit it, or even taken the time to notice. He knew how hopelessly wrapped around Ryan’s finger he was, how Ryan was the one person he’d do practically anything for since joining Unsolved on a whim.

 

And it had turned out to be one of the best decisions of his life.

 

“Shane?”

 

It was the first voice he’d heard since materializing back in Ryan’s living room who knows how long ago, but he’d been sitting on the couch in dead silence ever since. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees while he toyed idly with his fingers. He wasn’t sure if the voice was real or a figment of his frazzled imagination.

 

“I was worried about you, big guy.” Ryan’s voice continued, and the floorboards creaked as he walked further into the living room. “I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

 

Okay, so definitely the real thing, but Ryan’s presence only added to the stress he was under—especially considering _he_ was the source. Shane hadn’t come up with an excuse yet, hadn’t prepared anything to say even though everything usually just came naturally. He hadn’t even decided if he was going to tell Ryan what he heard.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately upon seeing Shane’s face. “Are you okay?”

 

Both his brain and heart had different answers to that— _of course, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?_ said his brain— _Of course I’m not okay, why would I be?_ argued his heart, bursting at the seams and threatening to explode with overwhelming, reciprocated emotions. _We’re both idiotic, lovesick puppies and I hate it._

 

“Yeah, okay.” Ryan mumbled when Shane didn’t move, didn’t look up to meet the stare burning into him. “You’re angry at me. That’s—look, I get it. You have every right to be.”

 

Anger, no, far from it. The numbness he felt was strange, yet oddly welcoming. Maybe it was an imaginary feeling too.

 

 “Listen, Shane, I wanted to apologize about the—about what happened the other day.” A pause; maybe he was waiting for Shane to interrupt. Maybe he wanted him to. “We were finally talking, _communicating,_ but I—the way I stormed out was immature, I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to you. To either of us.”

 

They both said what they had wanted to say—or well, Shane had, after so much pressure. He got everything off his chest, and only felt _slightly_ lighter. Only a _little_ bit of weight had been removed, and only just recently understood there was more too it. He didn’t blame Ryan for getting frustrated, annoyed, or whatever that had been.

 

“Shane, please say something.”

 

If only they could read each other’s thoughts.

 

It took him a moment of contemplation; silence dragged on, so quiet he could hear the clock ticking in the other room. Ignoring everything wasn’t going to help anything—not that he was trying to—but it was easy. Shane lifted his head; warily at first, half afraid the sudden movement would erase all his thoughts like an etch a sketch.

 

Their eyes met. Ryan stared at him; apprehensive, but silent as his fingers toyed with a loose string on his sleeve. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired, hair still disheveled as if he’d just woken up and made a beeline for the living room. His face was flushed to match the eyes, but Shane didn’t want to wonder if he had been crying.

 

There was no telling what his own expression gave away; but judging from Ryan’s, it wasn’t anger or anything he’d been expecting to see. That was good—Shane _wasn’t_ angry but didn’t know how to communicate what he felt in its place. He wanted to make sure he finally got his thoughts in order before speaking at all, so he stayed silent.

 

Ryan nodded solemnly; lips pursed into a thin line. He looked defeated, utterly _deflated_ and it matched the first time Shane had seen him in that asylum. Exhausted, with a little piece of his soul missing; a hollowness where the light in his eyes should have been. It’s not the Ryan he was used to, nor the one he liked seeing.

 

_So, do something about it._

 

“Okay.” He mumbled and pushed himself away from the furniture. “Okay.”

 

Shane watched him linger, uncertainty etched onto his features more clearly than a statue. He opened his mouth to say something more, something that matched the frustration they were both feeling, but must have decided against it. Ryan simply rubbed the back of his neck and walked away without a clear purpose.

 

There it was again; that hollow silence, so quiet Shane could almost hear his non-existent heartbeat. It stretched for a mere six or seven seconds, but it felt like an hour—every moment the two of them were at odds only added to the weight he’d been fighting so hard to relieve. This isn’t what he wanted. He wanted to fix this.

 

_So, fix it._

 

He does. “You’re wrong.”

 

Ryan paused; halting mid step just as he had been about to vanish back down the hallway. His faltered movements indicated that he might’ve been waiting for Shane to stop him. There was no hesitation there as he rotated back around to face the living room, eyebrows knit together with a strange mixture of confused curiosity.

 

“I’m not mad at you.” Shane continued without missing a beat, not giving him a chance to ask questions. “I’m not. It’s just..”

 

His mind drifted off again, trying to piece together the elaborate puzzle of memories so he’d know where to start. Even though he had trailed off, Ryan remained rooted in place, not speaking or moving except to lean against the wall. He was fully engrossed with whatever Shane was about to say, so no backing out now. _Think,_ damnit.

 

“Before the investigation.” Shane finally said, as things started to click into place. Right. Right, now or never. He swallowed audibly, adams apple bobbing. “It was—It was a couple months prior to the actual investigation actually, during the research period.”

 

Shane peered down at his hands which were already intertwined, fingers distractedly pulling at each other. His leg was bouncing. “You had stayed late a few days in a row, and one of them you fell asleep at your desk; headphones on, twelve tabs open and halfway through a documentary about the damn place.”

 

“You hadn’t gotten much sleep that week. That’s why I didn’t wake you up, ‘cause I knew you’d just keep working instead of letting me take you home. This one meant a lot to you for some reason and seeing you so excited over it was—” He almost stopped himself, “—that’s why I teased you so much. I liked hearing you ramble.”

 

“I put my jacket over you. I didn’t know why at the time, but I—you just looked adorable and I guess it was pure instinct that I—that I kissed the top of your head.” It all just tumbled out—so much for sticking to the script. “I ruffled your hair and told you goodnight, and it.. it didn’t strike me as strange after the fact. It felt _nice.”_

 

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it. He turned his head to stare at something else—whatever he had expected to hear, that definitely hadn’t been it.

 

“What—why are you telling me this?”

 

Say it. Say it. _Say it._ “What I’m getting at—I mean, I need you to know that it..” _keep going._ “..It wasn’t one sided.”

 

Even though he’d rather sit back, grit his teeth and be a coward, he forced his stare to meet Ryan’s when it returned. His were perplexed yet they held an underlying sense of alarm as he soaked in Shane’s words. It was written all over his face; maybe he knew what Shane meant, maybe he didn’t, but either way he was confused.

 

“What?”

 

Shane slowly rose to his feet—were his legs shaky, or was that just his imagination? “The other day, with your therapist.”

 

He heard the sharp intake of breath Ryan took. “You were—how much did you hear?”

 

“I was there the whole time.” He said, “I only left after you told the story of when you, uh..”

 

The immediate embarrassment on Ryan’s face was like a beacon, a tangible thing that Shane could _feel_ rolling off him in waves. He took his defensive stance; arms crossed, shoulders slumped, eyes focused on anything but the source of his discomfort. Maybe there had been a better way to ease into this, but it didn’t matter now.

 

He had to know. “Everything you said about me,” Shane mumbled, slowly covering the distance between them. “about why you liked me. Did you mean it?”

 

Ryan seemed to hug himself a little tighter—if the positions were flipped, and _he_ were the ghost, he would have vanished into thin air by now. Ryan didn’t do well under pressure.

 

“I mean, uh, you can just pretend that I didn’t say anything? I, um..”

 

“Ryan.”

 

He didn’t reply.

 

“I just found out you have a thing for me—” really? A _Thing?_ Maybe he should go back to saying crush. “—and I’m telling you _I_ have a thing for _you.”_

 

The movement was automatic, thoughtless, really—his legs had gone on autopilot because he was standing a less than a foot away now; the lack of personal space never bothered them before, and it wouldn’t start now. At the last word, Ryan turned his stare, chin angled upwards as Shane smiled slyly down at him in return.

 

“I don’t exactly… know what to say to that.” Ryan said, “What do you want me to say? Did you want me to laugh for the hidden cameras?”

 

“You think this is some sort of prank? You think I’d do something like that to you?”

 

Ryan looked away, clearly distraught again. “I think you feel bad for me and this is your way of trying to make me feel better.”

 

“Okay.” Shane mumbled, then reached out and mimicked the motion of cupping Ryan’s face in his hands, which hovered just close enough to feel the welcoming warmth. “Let me show you how serious I am. Can I, uh, try something?”

 

Though his touch wasn’t physical, he moved his left hand to brush his fingers under Ryan’s chin - and (thankfully) Ryan got the memo. He lifted his face to stare back up at Shane, eyes wide with uncertainty and slight panic. Shane wasn’t really sure what he was doing, but hoped he looked more confident than he felt.

 

“Listen, uh, this is going to play out like one of those cliche movie tropes Hollywood has beaten to death, but—” He started, nervous smile on his face that only expanded when Ryan mimicked it. “—but, thankfully we’re not outside in the rain, or in the airport cause I ran all the way there to stop you from getting on an important flight—"

 

“Shane..”

 

“Right. Right, I should, uh, probably just shut up and kiss you now, huh?”

 

So, he leaned down, moving both hands back to either side of Ryan’s face and filled in the short distance between them.

 

It was strange, obviously, no one can ever say they’ve kissed a ghost before. (not that anyone would believe them) No ghost can say they’ve kissed a living person before either. No one has figured out the physics of ghost-kissing, so there’s not exactly a rule book or how-to guide on _how to kiss_ your dead/living best bud.

 

It’s strange, but he made it work. That’s what he’d like to think anyway, as he carefully brushed his lips against Ryan’s, which was harder than it sounded considering he’s a fucking _ghost,_ the significant height difference and _also_ his eyes were closed. He didn’t want the whole thing to be even weirder by keeping them open.

 

It’s not exactly how he expected their first kiss to go—ideally, it would have happened when he was still alive (and after their first date if he was feeling particularly courageous), but hey, beggars can’t be choosers–though it wasn’t awful. It was happening, and they both _wanted_ it to happen, so better late than never, right?

 

He kept Ryan’s face cupped in his hands, thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. He was admittedly too distracted on if his face was positioned right; two fleshy human beings had to worry about the way their head tilted so their noses didn’t lethally poke out an eye. He didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for this.

 

Ryan’s face was exceptionally warm under not only his touch, but against Shane’s face, since the heat was definitely a side effect of this whole kiss thing. For a moment and against his better judgement, he let himself wonder what the real thing would feel like; how holding Ryan this way would feel like, how he’d taste. 

 

_Like a protein shake loaded with vitamins, next question, Madej._

 

Nearly lost in the temptation to laugh at his own joke, Shane drew back slowly, ever so gently and let out a shaky breath that would have matched his hypothetical heartbeat. It felt like the whole world was spinning, so he kept his eyes closed for a second, two, three, four (oh, come on, just open them and face the music) five..

 

Ryan stared back, wide eyed and bewildered. He’d only ever gotten this wide-eyed when he was scared to death, to the point where everyone thought he’d pass out—Shane hoped this was an exception to those circumstances, that he wasn’t horrified of what just happened, and the expression meant something different.

 

Joke. Joke. Make a joke.

 

 “That bad, huh?” Shane mused.

 

It was almost like he could see the smoke billowing out of Ryan’s malfunctioning brain. Shocked, yes. Dissatisfied, no. “…I just kissed a ghost.”

 

“You sure did, pal.”

 

Ryan just stared at him. “So, you—you’re—you’re—”

 

“Take your time.”

 

 “—you’re, uh.. actually—you were serious?”

 

“No, Ryan. I kiss _all_ my friends square on the mouth and get so nervous my _ghost_ body wants to throw up.”

 

He smiled briefly, but it was gone just as quickly; replaced by that same pure bewilderment from before. Shane felt the same—he had kissed people before, sure, but it was never like this. It never had the overwhelming sense of awe, the disbelief that it actually happened and the urge to do it again and never stop.

 

 

 “Should we—do you wanna sit?”

 

“Please.”

 

Even at the affirmation, neither of them made the first move. Either because they’d forgotten how to, or simply didn’t want to, he had no idea. Maybe a combination of both. He’d never been this nervous before—and though his brain screamed _panic attack,_ his lack of working lungs prevented him from hyperventilating.

 

_Okay, one step at a time. Literally._

A sheepish smile blossomed on Shane’s face as he stepped back and gestured vaguely towards the couch; and with an equally flustered, yet unfocused expression, Ryan wobbled in place then moved in a way that suggested he had in-fact, momentarily forgotten how to walk but managed to reach the couch.

 

Ryan sank into the corner of the cushion, back against the armrest with both legs bent and brought up to his chest yet angled towards the back of the couch. He loosely crossed his arms, effectively curled into a ball while he watched Shane take a seat in the middle cushion. Comfortably close, but not _overly_ close.

 

Shane leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees, sighing heavily as he hung his head. Silence hung in the air, but it didn’t have an awkward or uncomfortable edge to it—it was a mutual silence with both parties deep in thought. His own brain had already started to malfunction, and they’d barely gotten anywhere yet.

 

“...So.”

 

“So…”

 

“So,” Shane cleared his throat. “you’ve proven ghosts are real _and_ got to be intimate with one, that’s—that’s two things scratched off the Bergara Bucket List.”

 

“I only wanted to do one of those things.”

 

“But are you disappointed you did both?”

 

Ryan sighed, “Not exactly, I guess—considering who said ghost is, but, uh—”

 

A sigh.

 

 “That’s.. not exactly how I wanted—how _imagined_ our first kiss to go.”

 

Shane, suddenly intrigued, turned his head with a grin. “Oh, yeah? You thought about kissing me a lot, Bergara? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on me.”

 

“Shut up, Shane.” He shot back, “You kissed me first.”

 

With a genuine laugh that made him feel fuzzy, Shane leaned back into the couch and rested his hands on his midsection.

 

“Yeah, I did. ‘Cause you like-like me.”

 

Ryan’s lips twitched in a smile. “I _like-like_ you? What’re you, nine?”

 

“Hey! Those are the kids’ words, not mine.”

 

“..she said that?”

 

“Yeah. Turns out she’s the best wing-man I’ve ever had.”

 

Ryan seemed to consider that for a moment before he slowly nodded his head in agreement. “When she hugged me, she told me that I…—that I make you happy. And that _you_ like-like _me.”_

 

 _You_ do _make me happy._

 

Shane’s laugh came out as more as an exhale, “Yeah. She was— _is_ , right. She’s right. I like-like you.”

 

“Can we _please_ stop saying like-like?”

 

They both glanced away from each other, trying to hide their smiles. The quietness didn’t last long though.

 

“So…we can always talk about how you think I’m adorable.”

 

“Oh, god.”

 

“And smart. And charming. And, you were gushing about my _smile—”_

 

“I wasn’t gushing. I don’t gush.”

 

“—and handsome.” Shane finished, “—among _other words.”_

 

“You’re—"

 

“Sexy?” He offered, peering over at Ryan. “Irresistibly sexy? Stunning? Bootylicious? That’s what they call me, y’know. Ol’ _Bootylicious Madej._ ”

 

Shane had been to times square. He’d seen how bright it got at night, but that was nothing compared to Ryan’s smile in that moment. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“And you love it.”

 

There isn’t even a moment of hesitation. “Yeah, I do—god, you’re never gonna shut up about any of that, are you?”

 

“Nope, so you better get used to it, baby.”

 

They shared another giggle fit that drifted off into silence. Just like before, it didn’t last long.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Ryan peered over at him

 

“Anything.”

 

Just as quickly, he looked away. “This isn’t—you’re not actually fucking with me are you? This is real?”

 

“Do I need to come over there and kiss you again?” Shane asked and twisted his whole body to face the other. “Don’t make me. These lips are considered lethal weapons in twenty-six states, Bergara. You’d be lucky to survive.”

 

That earned a stifled giggle. “As nice as that—I just wanted to make sure. With you, it was always so hard to tell what was flirting and what was genuine friendliness. You’re a hard person to figure out.”

 

“Right back atcha’, buddy. Unless your idea of flirting was bullying poor ole’ me and saying mean things.”

 

Ryan shrugged half halfheartedly.

 

“It _was?_ ” Shane exclaimed, “That explains so much—did you learn all your techniques from a kindergarten class? Did they tell you saying, _‘I think you’re an idiot’_ really meant _‘I have a crush on you.’?”_

 

“I thought if I acted like I didn’t, those stupid feelings would go away. You’re my best friend, Shane, and I didn’t—our friendship, what he have, was too important to risk. I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

 

Shane nodded to himself, understanding completely.  

 

 “Sometimes I thought it was obvious, though. Well, to anyone with half a brain. You really are the dumbest person I know.”

 

“Guilty as charged.”

 

“There were so many times I thought you’d catch on—I mean, I wouldn’t do it on purpose but, it was like that time at Weyner, and we had just—”

 

“Hold on, hold on—" Shane interrupted, “That time at Weyner? You were so out of it. Slept like a baby, too, even though you made some weird noi—" He stopped as the realization hit, then grinned at Ryan’s sudden flustered expression. “Wait, you were—you had a sexy dream about me? A sex dream? You had dream sex with _me?_ ”

 

Ryan’s cheeks had become slightly rosy, “Mild. It was—it was _mildly_ , uh—it wasn’t like, _real_ sex, we just—”

 

“Got freaky enough to get those real juices flowin’?”

 

 _“Don’t_ say that.”

 

“Important question, Ryan.” He pointed to himself with a suggestive eyebrow raise, “Top or bottom?”

 

“Look, I may be pouring my heart out to you here, but I _will_ smack you.”

 

Shane laughed, and Ryan was quick to follow. It was controlled at first but didn’t take long to dissolve into incomprehensible wheezing. It took a while to die down, but when it did, they simply stared at each other. This was good—this was _all_ good, they both handled this with more ease than expected, almost like they were talking about the weather.

 

“This is weird.” Ryan eventually said. “I’ve had this talk with you a hundred times in my head and it never went this well.”

 

“Yeah, and what’re we supposed to do with all this unbridled, raw sexual tension between us now?” He offered, poker face nearly faltering when Ryan snorted. “I mean, if it’s too much for you to handle, we could always Patrick Swayze this and skip straight to bone town.”

 

Ryan shook his head with another laugh, “We’re not—I’m _not_ having sex with you. You’re a ghost.”

 

 “That might be a little too risky, given my bodies weird times to become tangible.” He agreed, then snorted. “Imagine someone breaking in during the middle of that.”

 

Ryan covered his face. _“Stop.”_

“So that’s a no to the sex?”

 

“Take me on a date first.”

 

“A date!” Shane exclaimed, then pat down his pockets, “Oh, damn. Must have left my wallet in my other body. Give me a sec.”

 

“I’m still not having sex with you.”

 

“Not even if I say please?”

 

“Beg all you want.”

 

 “Oh, well if that’s what you’re into.”

 

“That’s not—” He started to defend himself, then must have known better because he turned away, blush more noticeable now. “—Shut up, Shane.”

 

Another laugh, “But you’d—we’d bone if I wasn’t a ghost? You’d _want_ to bone me?”

 

“It'd hard to believe, I know, since you're so damn ugly. Also, If you say bone one more time I’m gonna have a fucking aneurysm.”

 

Shane gave him that same shit-eating grin.

 

When the room got quiet for the umpteenth time, Shane’s smile faded as unpleasant thoughts returned instead of happy ones. This couldn’t last. None of it. Not the newly found connection between the two, nor the warm, comforting bliss that came with it or even the soft smile that still lingered on Ryan’s face.

 

He really had a talent of sucking the joy out of situations like this, huh? He wanted to scoff at himself for not being able to get through five goddamn seconds without somehow ruining it. It was supposed to be a happy moment, but instead, his brain reminded himself that all this was temporary. It all had to end.

 

For a minute there, he had hope—but he was an idiot to think they could do anything with it. No amount of confessed feelings and weight off their shoulders would change the fact Shane was still dead. Hope wouldn’t somehow resurrect him from the grave. Someone had to break the bad news—no sense in breaking that streak now.

 “Ry, listen, I know this is a lot to process—for both of us, and I didn’t know when to bring it up, but no matter how good this feels..”

 

The look on Ryan’s face tells him he already understands the unspoken words, but Shane knew he had to say them anyway.

 

“I can’t stay.” He finished, “This isn’t—this is only gonna be bad for both of us. Especially now.”

 

Ryan didn’t flinch. He knew those words were coming, so he must have already prepared himself for the battering ram directly to the chest. Still, even though his strained expression remained the same, his eyes drifted downward and closed. Shane expected him to argue, to protest, to flash those sad eyes and make Shane change his mind.

 

That didn’t happen.

 

“A few more days.” Ryan finally spoke, then looked back over at him. “That’s all I’m asking for: a few more days with you. Then, we can..”

 

“Okay.”

 

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Shane added:

 

“Okay. How many missed episodes of Game of Thrones do you think we can get through?”

 

A head shake. “By the time we get through season six, you’ll be glad you’re dead.”

 

“Okay,” Shane smiled, but it didn’t feel genuine. “We better get started then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final part should actually be out within the next few days. No more long waits.


	23. End (2/2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read the end notes. Important info.

* * *

 

They got a few more days.

 

Shane liked to think of it as closure.

 

Everything they did, they did it with an awakened sense of realization—no more awkward movements, no _what ifs_ , no wondering if they were being too weird and crossed some sort of line. They sat closer, they held eye contact longer, their smiles were far more genuine now. It was a seamless transition.

 

Yet somehow, (thankfully) it stayed the same—Shane wondered how things might change, but very quickly realized he had been worrying for nothing. It didn’t change their chemistry and dynamic. They were still best friends—best friends that stared at each other a little more lovingly than usual, but still best friends.

 

He’d still instinctively reach into the bag of chips Ryan had absently been snacking on, only to startle them both when his hand went through the bag _and_ Ryan. They’d share a laugh, and hours later, something similar would happen—he’d toss a canned drink Shane’s way, eyes widening when Shane impulsively held out his incorporeal hands.

 

There were things he wanted to do—things he _wished_ he could do. Simple things, yet wholly intimate. He wished he could hug Ryan, for starters. The guy deserved about a thousand of those and counting. He wished he could put an arm around Ryan’s shoulders when they sat next to each other, that Ryan could lean his head against him.

 

Shane didn’t sleep, but he still followed Ryan to bed, lying there deep in thought the whole night, listening to jet-engine loud snoring or the sluggish mumbling as a result of a particularly exciting dream. Sometimes Ryan would roll over and be right up against him; he’d have his odd moments of tangibility.

 

During the days, Shane helped him out with his to-do lists. (you don’t need that many boxes of mac n’ cheese, Ryan. _Yes I do._ Reply to all those emails, Ryan. Let them know you’re alive. _Ill get around to it eventually._ Re-new your gym membership, Ryan. _I’ll be fine for a little while longer, Shane. I won’t turn to mush.)_

Before he left, he wanted to make sure Ryan got his life back in order, or at least started on the right track for it. He nagged and nagged until the living room was finally devoid of garbage, until the kitchen looked less like a nuclear launch site, until his closet was re-organised, and the basketball jerseys were in their rightful place.

 

Ryan still insisted on not replying to the mass amounts of emails, texts and phone calls, until.. _afterwards._ He explained that was a floodgate he didn’t want to open until he had the free time for it, and right now his complete, undivided attention was for Shane. That made sense, and the sentiment was sweet.

 

Ryan often fell asleep next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder while Shane binged Game of Thrones. In a few very brief moments, he’d become physical and really feel the weight of Ryan’s head on his bony shoulder, and it’d make him smile wistfully at the domestic bliss of it all. If only they could’ve really had this.

 

At least, they could pretend.

 

And then day three rolled around.

 

At exactly 7:33pm (not that he was paying attention to every second of that day), he found Ryan leaning against the kitchen counter, distractedly toying with the familiar coin; his trance-like state was only broken when Shane appeared in the entryway. They both wore the same tense expression, and Shane’s half-hearted smile wasn’t returned.

 

Somehow, they both avoided talking about it for the last three days and instead, just enjoyed their company. It hadn’t _felt_ like their days were numbered until he was wide awake, in the middle of the night, with nothing else to think about. He could only hope that Ryan’s mind had actually let him live in the moment.

 

“There’s a fireplace in the lobby downstairs.” Is all Ryan said

 

He had no idea seven words could have such finality to them, but seven words were all it took to make his chest tighten; to everyone else it would be a harmless, normal sentence. It carried a weight utterly inexpiable to anyone besides the two of them, and it was all Shane could do to nod and flash another weak smile.

 

They took the stairs.

 

The lobby was empty when they arrived, dimly lit by the flickering, hanging ceiling lamps—lamps he’d heard Ryan complain to the landlord about, which apparently fell on deaf ears. It was already a depressing atmosphere, and somehow the faint, inaudible country music from hidden speakers made it even worse.

 

His attention had instantly been drawn to red brick chimney that scaled the wall and disappeared into the ceiling—there was a glass coffee table a few feet of carpeted space in front of it, with three two-seater couches on the remaining sides. It was all neatly tucked into the corner and out of earshot of the building’s entrance.

 

The sitting area was darkened yet illuminated in the soft, warm glow from the fire—it wasn’t much, but he figured they wouldn’t have to make the flames any bigger for their intended purpose. A part of him hoped it would be one of those fake fireplaces, and they’d have to spend a little more time looking for a real one.

 

That wasn’t the case, though. It was real as can be. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan forgoes the couches and made himself comfortable as he perched against the edge of the coffee table closest to the fireplace. He didn’t say a word as Shane followed suit, took a seat next to him and stared into the flames with his hands in his lap.

 

And it was quiet again.

 

Strangely enough, Shane felt like he was at a funeral. A thick, gloomy silence blanketed the lobby with an atmosphere that wasn’t awkward, but also far from comfortable. Ryan was dressed in dark jeans and a black long sleeve shirt— _jesus_ , it was a funeral. Intentional or not, he felt guilty. Ryan had _already_ been to his funeral.

 

Suddenly, that made him feel worse—that’s not what he wanted. He didn’t want this to be like a funeral, or to see Ryan cry again. He didn’t want a whole eulogy because he was sure Ryan had already sat through enough of those. That’s why he never asked about it. Still, just like a funeral, no one wanted to have the first word.

 

Shane tried anyway. “Ryan..”

 

He didn’t get very far—he trailed off as more words failed him; he had absolutely no idea what to say. How was he supposed to do this?

 

“I keep thinking back to that night,” Ryan said quietly, half a minute afterward, “the night before I found you.” His stare was locked on his own intertwined fingers. “I keep thinking _what if?_ What if I never went back and you remained a ghost in that place forever? What if you ended up like Eli?”

 

It was something Shane had already given too much thought into—it was his only constant, vivid thought while _in_ the Asylum—and didn’t want to waste anymore time dwelling about it.

 

“You came back and that’s all that matters.” He replied. When Ryan didn’t look convinced, he added: “I’m serious—that’s all that matters. We don’t have to talk about it or anything else. I’m here. You’re here. That’s enough.”

 

“Not for long..”

 

“Ryan—"

 

“No.” Ryan hung his head, “We have to.. Fuck, I—I’m not good at this. I’m not—but I can’t do this again— _not_ say anything.”

 

Shane frowned, “What are you talking about?”

 

“The first time, you—I didn’t say anything at.. at your _funeral,”_ Ryan’s voice cracked, “I didn’t—I couldn’t force myself, to get up there and speak.. I had no idea what to say or how to even begin to—to say goodbye.”

 

“Ryan, it’s fine, you don’t—”

 

“I _do_.” He continued, “I do. I have to say something this time; I have to say goodbye to you for good, because I can’t go through all that again.”

 

Shane wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. So, it look a few more moments of preparation, but Ryan shifted slightly so he was angled towards him and looked up to meet his gaze.

 

“You’re my best friend.” He said, voice a little less shaky now. “Losing you was one of the worst periods I’ve ever went though. I didn’t think I’d ever get through it—I almost didn’t. I still feel ashamed but somehow, I found you again and got a second chance to say all the shit I didn’t before, so here it is.”

 

“You helped me through a ton of rough patches, you made me happy to get up every morning, you made going to work worth it, cause I knew I’d see you. Every episode of Unsolved was ten times better just because you were there with me; you knew how to calm me down and make me forget why I was even afraid in the first place.”

 

“Then you died, and I was upset all the time. Maybe you weren’t the sole reason for my depressive spiral, but without you around, it got worse and worse. I stopped going to work, stopped hanging out with our mutual friends, cancelled unsolved, because it just wasn’t worth getting out of bed. None of it was.”

 

“But, by some miracle, I got you back. Yeah, I thought you were a hallucination at first, but it was still better than nothing. You still acted like you, and that kept me going for a little while. Then, I realized you were.. actually, a ghost, actually _real._ It was the happiest I’d been in months—for more than one reason, actually.”

 

“This past month has been nothing short of amazing. Really, this all meant so much to me, and knowing you felt the same way about—about, well, everything, gave me some sense of closure. I don’t want to, but, uh.. I think I’ll be fine.” He finished with: “Wherever you end up, Shane, I hope you’re happy there. You deserve it.”

 

It was a whole lot to process all at once, but as the stillness lulled the lobby back into silence, Shane knew he had nothing to say. Nothing he said could compare to all of that. He wasn’t sure how he cried ghostly tears before, but one thing he _was_ sure of is how this moment definitely deserved them.

 

If he really wanted to spill his heart out like Ryan had, they’d be here all night and neither of them would want to go through with this by the end of it. If he spilled his heart out too, he knew Ryan would go from _fine_ to _not fine,_ so he had to settle on something short and sweet. Genuine. Something that would summarize it all.

 

 “Hey, uh, Ryan..?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Shane glanced over at him with an awkward smile, but quickly replaced it with a sigh. Here goes nothing.

 

“If there is an afterlife and I—or like, heaven and hell actually exist, then I, uh—” God, it’s like he’s auditioning for a part in a Nicholas Sparks movie without a script. “—I really.. I hope you end up there with me.” Wow. And Ryan thought he was charming _._ “Jeez, that was—that was cheesy. Let me try that one again. Cut. Take two..”

 

Ryan’s tender expression made him trail off. “Cheesiness is one of the reasons I like you so much.”

 

“Well, then—damn. Dip me in cheese and call me a nacho.”

 

That didn’t sound right either, but Ryan’s smile only grew, so maybe it was.

 

“Not for another seventy years or so, though.” Shane assured him, “I want you to live a long, full life. Don’t come visiting so soon. Get back to work, live your life, meet someone, ya know?”

 

Ryan’s eyes seemed to twinkle in the firelight. “After all this, there isn’t—I’m not going to _meet_ someone. I don’t want to.”

 

“Then just—just promise me you’ll let yourself be happy again. And if you happen to find _someone_ , you won’t put up any walls. Don’t _try_ and be lonely for the rest of your life.”

 

It took several long moments, but Ryan nodded. “I promise.”

 

He held out the coin again and stared longingly at it. They both did. It was just an ordinary quarter yet held so much meaning and significance. The tiny piece of metal was Shane’s lifeline—so in a way, his life was literally in Ryan’s hands. That didn’t scare him anymore; in fact, it was comforting. He was happy.

 

When Ryan looked at him, he simply nodded.

 

And without moving from his spot, Ryan tossed the coin into the flames.

 

And soon as it touched, Shane felt a sudden warmth somewhere deep within his chest—not quite his heart, somewhere deeper—and somehow he knew it was in his soul. It was comforting. It calmed his frazzled nerves, took away all the anxiety from the situation at hand. He closed his eyes and exhaled quietly.  

 

Is that what Eli felt? No wonder she’d seemed so calm.

 

“Shane?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I.. I don’t know how long we have but—” A pause. He shifted nervously. “God, it may be my last chance to say it, but I don’t—is it too soon to use the L word?”

 

Shane turned to look at him, the first word out of his mouth was automatically: “Lesbian?”

 

Ryan’s face was a warzone of emotions, but he managed to smile wearily. Shane wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were humor or sadness. “The other L word, Shane.”

 

“…lesbian _s?”_

 

“Yeah, that’s the one. I’m in lesbians with you.”

 

The warmth in his chest seemed to grow stronger at the implication—the real meaning behind that sentence. _The L word._ Maybe they should. Maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe finally saying those three little words would be too much; did he want to leave Ryan even more heartbroken than he already was?

 

“I mean, it’s a good placeholder.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Shane swallowed roughly but maintained the smile on his face. He kept staring at Ryan until he could force himself to say the words that weren’t even the right ones. It seemed like the final goodbye; maybe he should wait until they see each other again. _If that ever happened._

_You might_ never _see him again. Say it._

 

He tried. The words stuck to the tip of his tongue.

 

“I L-word you, Ryan.” Is what he spoke in its place.

 

With tears in his eyes, and without hesitation, Ryan said: “I L-word you too, Shane.”

 

They both smiled, but there was a sadness behind their eyes that both understood as the real reason they didn’t say the _real_ version.

 

So, when Shane returned his stare to the fire instead of saying anymore; Ryan leaned in and kissed his cheek. Softly, with more tenderness than he knew he deserved. The feeling of it lingered even though Ryan pulled away just as quickly, but it.. It felt real. It felt warm, just like the sensation in his chest.

 

He thought about that warmth in his chest, which slowly spread through his body. It flowed through his veins, pulsating further with each imagined heartbeat. It filled his lungs with each breath, ran down his spine with a shiver and only got deeper with each passing second. His soul felt.. it felt lighter. He closed his eyes.

 

Sitting there by the fire, he felt real again. Just for those last few moments anyway, but he felt the weight to his limbs and the tables hardness beneath him, the heat of the _fire_ and how it gave him goosebumps, and the heaviness of his own hand on top of Ryan’s. He sighed softly just to feel the air in his lungs.

 

Everything felt calm. The firelight against his closed eyelids soothed his mind into a state of tranquility. It was the opposite of the void, of the nothingness he encountered after leaving the Asylum—he still felt whole, still had emotions and memories, but all the uncertainty and worry ceased to exist. It all faded away piece by piece.

 

And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** I know what it looks like. This was originally supposed to be the END end, but I promised angst with a happy ending; this didn’t really cut it. Stick around for the epilogue that’ll make you wonder why you were ever mad at me in the first place. **


End file.
